<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>To Be Whole by StuntzTheDude</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28576965">To Be Whole</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuntzTheDude/pseuds/StuntzTheDude'>StuntzTheDude</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Grounded [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Barbarians (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Ending, Baby, Child Death, Eventual Smut, F/M, Human Sacrifice, Hurt/Comfort, I reject Tacitus's reality and substitute my own!, Light Dom/sub, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, You want angst? You want drama? You want fluff? This has it all!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:54:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>72,688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28576965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuntzTheDude/pseuds/StuntzTheDude</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As the spring after their victory at Teutoburg comes, Rome returns. With their first child coming and Rome creeping north, Ari and Thusnelda must defend their new life from all sides. They have the help of the new family they've gathered along the way—but will it be enough?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ari/Thusnelda, Arminius/Thusnelda, Hermann der Cherusker | Arminius of the Cherusci/Thusnelda of the Cherusci (c. 10 BCE)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Grounded [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Spring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Alright, so I had planned on only writing one-shots, and then I ended up on bedrest from getting the plague. This is a doozy: this fic finishes out the series for me personally so I don't have to watch the second season, because it looks like it's going to be a downer and I like everyone too much. I have chosen to touch on and incorporate several of the actual written events within Tacitus's Annals, because Oh Boy is there a lot of drama to be had there. In the meantime, enjoy all this mess!<br/>I will also give a shoutout here and send a special thanks to Eastern_Lights for her help translating any and all Latin throughout this fic, as well as to kettlepillow, who got me back on the Fanfiction train in the first place!<br/>"Regular Quotation Marks" are for English/German. 'Single Quotation Marks' are for Latin. It is mentioned throughout the text, but I figured I would prime it either way.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How much longer should it be?” Arminius asked—again—as he dutifully massaged Thusnelda’s aching, swollen ankles, propped up on his lap as she did her best to slouch against the bed. She understood why he kept asking. She, too, constantly worried her dress might split at the seam if she bent over the wrong way, as big as her belly had now grown. As she hadn’t seen her feet in over a month, Ari even had to help her put on her shoes—but sometimes his questions truly grated on her nerves. Like today. Even though last night, he had spent many of the dark hours in silence holding back her hair and rubbing her shoulders as she heaved into the bucket that he had already dumped and rinsed more than once. Only when she set it down with an exhausted sigh did he kiss her cheek and ask if she needed water.  </p><p>“A few weeks, Arminius,” she said. His hands stopped; she only called him Arminius when either trying to call him out of a nightmare or if they were arguing. When he looked up, though, her arm was slung across her sallow face to block the light and he reminded himself that she was not angry at him, she was just uncomfortable and exhausted.  </p><p>“I am sorry. I just—” </p><p>“I know, I know. You just don’t know.” The five months that had passed since the two of them had led the tribes to victory over Rome had been...an adjustment. Arminius had a mind for war and strategy, but as the year turned, Thusnelda’s pregnancy had been novel and frustrating. As it grew more and more difficult, too much of their time was spent either caring for her or hearing rumors about whose it was. It had quickly become obvious even right after they had finally announced it that there was no way he was the father—she was just too far along too fast—and everyone in the village knew the only possible answer as to who it could be. It did not help that much of the talk seemed to be either started or stirred by her father, who was growing more and more open in his distaste for Arminius. One day, about a month ago, Ari did snap: it was likely only because they had both been sleepless the night before—every time she tried to lay down, Little One took it as a cue to start doing summersaults, and it’d even woken Ari with a solid kick a few times—but the uncharacteristic outburst did help. </p><p><em>I will hear no more ill spoken of Thusnelda or the child she carries! I, your  </em> <em> reik </em> <em> , will be raising them as mine, and the child will the heir of the  </em> <em> Cherusci </em> <em> . Should any among you have any further concerns, you may take them up with me. I am here to listen to them, but am I clear?</em> </p><p>It even quieted Segestes, it appeared, who had since began acting a bit more neutrally than outright hostile to his son-in-law. That had made things a bit easier on Thusnelda, of course, who was growing more and more miserable—perhaps more excited to be done with the pregnancy than to bring their child into the world.  </p><p>It almost didn’t matter how miserable Thusnelda often was, because Arminius’s excitement was infectious. It seemed to even silence the most vicious detractors to see him so thrilled—his refusal to see the child as anything other than his own wouldn’t be enough for everyone, but even on the worst days, it was enough for her. He had even stopped traveling weeks ago, <em> Just </em> <em>  in case,  </em> he had said, even though Thusnelda had reiterated that it probably wouldn’t be for a while yet. He didn’t seem to care either way. Arminius was just happy to be with her.  <em> With the both of you,  </em>he always corrected.  </p><p>At the same time, though, Rome was on the move. <em> Early,  </em>Ari had said. He didn’t seem to be trying to keep information from Thusnelda on purpose, but she knew that there was plenty she didn’t know firsthand: any time Arminius spoke directly to their warriors or to Talio she was generally asleep or otherwise indisposed. Other reiks or their messengers had been coming to their hall, too—and Arminius never left their meetings with a smile. He had to relay most of the information back to her but was often too deeply distracted by planning to get through it all. Talio had been coming and going almost nonstop for weeks, acting as emissary for Arminius both between the other tribes and as they began raids of Roman scouting parties. They had already brought back several heads for the village itself to string up with the last year’s trophies—but it was already well-known that Rome had sacked more than one city to the south.  </p><p>There had been some good news, though, and perhaps one of the best things to come of the winter was Sueva. Almost as soon as the rebellion had been won and Arminius and Thusnelda had gifted land to Talio and his mercenaries, the now former hirelings that had had wives and children sent word for them to come—most were waiting for spring, but some came the moment they heard. Talio’s wife had been among them. Sueva was a sturdy woman, broad at the shoulders and hips with a strong jaw and hard blue eyes, but with the same red hair as her husband. Their six children (aged four to fifteen) carried it as well. At first, she had much less humor than Talio, but the longer she had spent among the Cherusci, the more readily they saw it: dry comments, matter-of-fact sorts of statements that threw many off-guard, and a knife-sharp wit that helped Sueva and Thusnelda fall in with each other almost immediately. With Talio still technically staying in the Cherusci hall (though, yes, he was seldom there anymore), Sueva and their children had just gone ahead and skipped the mercenaries’ town and moved right into Thusnelda and Arminius’s village proper. Their children, three girls and three boys, were subjects of immediate fascination by their counterparts in the Cherusci, who were mystified by their different clothes and accents. It was not long, however, until they were fully inseparable: learning each other’s games, songs, and superstitions. The eldest two, fifteen-year-old daughter Sucaria and son Manus, fourteen, were exceptional hunters, and it hadn’t been a week before they were bringing back their own game or otherwise assisting the tribe on their own bigger hunts. Talio was over the moon and swore with pride that in the next year Sucaria, at the very least, would join in raiding—a prospect that she didn’t seem too keen on. Ari had made a note when she brought it up to him one day that he would speak with her father—he knew Talio would be disappointed, but just the same, Sucaria was not quite cut from the same cloth as someone like Thusnelda. She was a gangly, bright-eyed girl who was both a bit too serious and a bit too mischievous (<em> Just like her Da at her age, I say,  </em> Sueva said dryly), and while Ari had indeed become fond of all of Talio’s children, he’d grown a certain weakness for her in particular. Perhaps it had been  Fons , at first—the first day they’d finally made it to the village, exhausted and elated, Talio proud and joyful, he and Thusnelda had welcomed them into the hall. Sucaria settled on a small bench around the corner to the horses and had nearly fallen asleep, and  Fons  craned his neck around the wall of his stall, uncomfortably far for where he was standing—immediately butting his head into her shoulder for attention. The horse had been smitten with her ever since.  <em> He does not do that for everyone, Thusnelda, </em> Ari said that night as they turned in. She’d rolled her eye but said nothing. It didn’t matter either way. Fons had been right, and Thusnelda, Talio, and Sueva never said anything about Ari more or less treating her like a younger sister from then on, and they also blessedly ignored that he could never bring himself to say the word no to her, any time she asked him for even the smallest thing. </p><p>Sueva had immediately taken to care for Thusnelda’s pregnancy. After the tribes had returned from battle with Thusnelda a warlord, seeress, and far more than the mere Queen of the Cherusci, there had been a distance that had grown between Thusnelda and the rest of the women of the tribe, even her former friends. Sueva didn’t seem to mind either way and took her exactly as she was, still treating her as a woman rather than something <em> other </em> —not the  seeress , not just a warrior, but a friend. Arminius too was relieved by their friendship, and at how much more at ease Talio was for having her around. Perhaps he was especially comforted by how frankly Sueva would speak with them about what was happening with the baby—he wasn’t fond of having subjects he knew little about <em> . I’ve never lost a one,  </em> she’d said mater-of- factly , steeping some horrific smelling herbs for a tea she was promising  would settle the pains in Thusnelda’s back.  <em> Of course, some are harder than others, you’re finding out. But I’ll do my best to help you do the same. </em> Thusnelda’s mother was indeed becoming more involved outright, since it wasn’t so directly against her husband, and Sueva was doing her best to remain cordial towards her. Irmina did seem sorry that she hadn’t been there to help earlier, and they could all see that her engagement meant the world to Thusnelda. Runa the seeress had even come to call on them a few times, always speaking with Thusnelda either privately or with Sueva at her side, but Arminius figured that it was probably just things he as a man wasn’t supposed to know. He never asked what was said and Thusnelda never offered up much information. Either way, he was grateful, as he still wasn’t quite sure all the ways that women worked physically—never something that Rome had been concerned with teaching him. He had known the gist of childbirth already and of course had interacted Varus’s second wife, Pulchra, shortly after she had bourn Varus’s son, but it wasn’t like she had told a young Arminius all about how she felt the whole way. No matter what, though, he was memorizing and cataloging every detail possible, from the way Sueva told him to tally the moons and time the birth to the foods Thusnelda craved (when she had the stomach for eating, that is). He had even taken to personally sending young Sucaria and Manus to hunt for him specifically. Sucaria took the responsibility quite seriously indeed. She and her brother seldom came back empty handed. </p><p>They still had heard no news of Folkwin. No rumors, no likely sightings, no nothing. Arminius had been careful to listen for it when he had been traveling beforehand, and now Talio was doing the same; Thusnelda was taking in everything she could from her seat in the hall, and Sueva had been sure to let her children know that if they heard anything to bring it to their attention. It was something that the four of them now mentioned to each other only rarely, never something that any of them wanted to dwell on—no news meant there would be no solutions, and in the meantime, they would live their lives regardless.  </p><p>Arminius had long since thought he had beaten fear out of himself. Rome, and Varus, had no room for a heart that faltered, but the longer he spent here in Germania, the more he found things of his own worth protecting. He didn’t know how to stop it. Through it all, the nightmares were returning, especially when he wasn’t home. Even Talio had noticed, though he said nothing—Arminius was sure Talio had his own, so there was nothing to explain. When he told Talio he was going to stop traveling all together, he had barely begun the sentence when Talio waved it off. <em> I’ll take care of it. You’ve done enough. </em>  He hadn’t told Thusnelda that that was perhaps the greatest factor in his decision to stay, not just the desire to be with her as they prepared for their child. She often slept so hard now that she didn’t wake up to them anyways. Arminius had decided that it was for the best. He’d handled them alone for this long and he had always known they would be back, so he had been ready to return to being  <em> not here  </em> as often as he was most nights. He was on edge, but he tried to tell himself that was a good thing—just in case—but coming back to  <em> here  </em>by listening to the sound of Thusnelda’s breathing, grounded in place by the weight of her leg draped over him or the heat of her skin, was enough. </p><p>Now, he was sitting on the fence of the paddock behind the hall, using the last gasps of cold, late winter sunlight to rework Fons’s tack. One of the more rotten village goats had gotten out—again—leaving a path of destruction in her wake that left almost no household unscathed. If she hadn’t been so good with milk, most of the village would have had half a mind to outright take her and sacrifice her at the upcoming equinox before her owner could object—but so far, she’d been lucky enough to return home unscathed. Ari was still plenty grateful for this mundane distraction. While he and Fons could ride bareback without a problem and there were extra bridles in the style of his own tribe, he did feel better having the kit Fons was used to. He settled his leather and awl back into his lap, watching Fons as he nosed through his manger. The horse glanced back up at him with a huff before turning back his way, butting his head into Ari’s outstretched hand. ‘See? Done.’ Ari held up the new bridle, freshly re-strung with his old one’s buckles, and Fons eyed it suspiciously. ‘Oh, come Friend; it will not be so bad. You will not even need a new bit.’ Fons didn’t seem to care either way, especially once Ari pulled a carrot out of his pocket. He handed it over before knotting on a lead and to bring Fons back inside for the night. Ari hung the new bridle outside Fons’s stall—forgetting it outside was not a mistake he would make again—and he made his way back to the private chambers at the back. </p><p>Thusnelda was at her loom across the side wall. She had been working at a new plaid for him—again, that damned goat had gotten to his old one—and they had decided to just cut it up as swaddling for the baby. She didn’t turn to look at him as she beat her fresh weft in place, hooking the wooden weaving sword back on one of the loom’s pegs. When she tugged the heddle back forward, the stone loom weights clicked and rang brightly as they knocked against each other—Ari had always loved the sound, even from childhood. It had always been a sound of home, sitting with his mother when he was a child, then sitting with Varus’s wife Pulchra while she wove had been a small comfort and sense of stability after he’d been taken. Watching Thusnelda weave mystified him. Somehow, it made her more real. While in Rome, he’d done his best to hate and forget his homeland, even sometimes pretending that Folkwin and Thusnelda had died or been married off already—but now that he was here, there were still plenty of moments where he worried he would wake up, his new life being some fever dream. Thusnelda was warmly lit in the firelight, her rings (trophies from the battle last fall) glinting as her hands dropped the shuttle back, laying down another row. The loom weights rang again as she dropped the heddle back. Her bronze hair was loose down her back and her dark woad blue dress—she'd had to make a new one to fit herself as little one had grown—was unbelted at her waist. She did not look up as he stepped to her side and took the shuttle out of her hand, kissing her cheek as he wrapped his arms around her, cradling her belly. “How are you feeling?” </p><p>“Hungry.” Ari smiled, glancing back at the pot already over the hearth.  </p><p>“Well, you are fixing that.” She turned against him and rested her head on his shoulder, letting out an exasperated sigh. </p><p>“I am trying. It’s not done, and I already burnt my tongue on it twice.” He couldn’t help his small chuckle.  </p><p>“Patience, then. It will be soon enough.” She pulled away from him, eyes glinting. </p><p>“Well, I don’t have patience. What I am is hungry, and all I’m doing is standing here, smelling that, trying to do this,” waving back at the loom, “and any time I make any progress, I remember that if this,” gesturing down at herself, “was all over and done with, the both of us would be riding out there and I would have <em> some  </em>idea of what was happening outside this hall, and then I must remind myself why I’m weaving in the first place, and then I remember the food!” She ambled back to the pot, lifting the and stirring angrily before clattering it back down and making her way to their bedding, where she carefully sagged down with an exasperated sigh. </p><p>Arminius settled down next to her and put his arm around her shoulder, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. “We are almost there, Nelda. Only a few more weeks, just as you said.” He kissed the tips of her fingers, then her palm, then her wrist. She couldn’t help the frustrated noise she made, but she let him trail his kisses farther up, to her shoulder.  </p><p>“I just want this over with. I do not even want to know what I look like, Ari, I just feel so...useless. I’m so tired. And I am not myself.” Arminius shook his head.  </p><p>“Nelda, you are not useless, and you must be kinder to yourself. You are busy making a whole new person. Why would you not be tired?” A small smile crossed her face that Arminius could tell was unbidden, because she hid it quickly. “And you are beautiful.” He kissed her cheek. “You have never once ceased to move me. In all ways.” Thusnelda snorted. </p><p>“’In all ways?’ Ari, you can’t possibly still be trying to say that all of <em> this,”  </em>again gesturing down at her body, “still does anything for you.” He rose his eyebrow, and Thusnelda laughed again. It was the closest he ever got to outright rolling his eyes—one of the most dismissive expressions he seemed capable of. </p><p>“Amica mea, perhaps you <em> are  </em> ill. Begging for me for anything  <em> is  </em>unlike you—especially begging for me to prove you wrong.”  </p><p>“Oh, I beg for nothing, <em> Domine </em> <em> ,”  </em>she teased, but was delighted by the way his breath caught at the name. “We both know who commands who.” Ari laughed into her hair, and she realized that his hand had crept up her leg, his fingers working the hem of her dress upward as he went. “And I command you to tell me: what might you be doing?”  </p><p>His free hand ran through her hair, guiding it down one shoulder and freeing her neck, which he proceeded to lean into and kiss, painfully lightly. “I’m distracting you, Thusnelda. And I’m proving you wrong.” He kissed her again, now gripping her bare thigh, slowly tipping her sideways onto the bedding and crouching over her, nipping her neck. “Pro te, regina mea, quies necessitaria est. Don’t worry. I will prove my point quickly.”  </p><p>“Hopefully not too quickly,” she breathed as he continued to run his hand up her side. He looked down at her mischievously with the cockeyed smile she loved, but said nothing else—and she was soon far too distracted to respond with much, anyways. </p><p> </p><p>Dinner was done just in time (Ari had been right; he <em> was  </em>able to keep her mind off it for just long enough) and as Ari was reaching to get their bowls, there was a small knock at the door. Sucaria poked her head in. “Ma says if you like, we’ll keep you company,” she said quietly, looking between them. “She’ll bring the pot over and we can all eat—if you want,” she added quickly, suddenly seeming a bit shy—but she looked at Ari with her doe-like eyes, and he turned to Thusnelda, knowing that he couldn’t refuse her if he made eye contact too long. Thusnelda laughed, seeing his face, and knowing full well what he was thinking.  </p><p>“Of course. We’ll move out to the hall.” It wasn’t long before Ari and Thusnelda’s quiet evening was overrun by the remaining seven members of Talio’s household—he was still out riding for Ari, and the children were frustrated with him disappearing so often after they had just gotten him back. While Sueva knew Thusnelda and Ari still very much liked time to themselves, the three of them knew that her children could not be kept at bay forever, and it was best to set their own terms of engagement before the children set theirs. Ari didn’t complain—while he was using their time around them as a learning experience, analyzing the ways they interacted and how best to interact with them. He knew he still needed the practice. They ate, the adults barely able to hear each other over the din of the children, but at least the children took care of the cleanup—and when Ari helped Thusnelda to bed, they both were sound asleep soon after they laid down. </p><p> </p><p>It had been dark, there was no warning. <em> They must have gotten to the sentries, </em> Arminius thought to himself as he donned his armor, hands willed steady against the shouting from outside his tent. When he burst through the tent flap, hand on his hilt, he tried to analyze the sight before him as quickly as possible—tents on fire, to the edges of the camp. Not soldier’s tents: the camp followers? He ran towards the screaming, grabbing the arm of a half-dressed legionary he recognized as he ran past, ‘What happened?!’ </p><p>‘They overran the perimeter, Dominus; they stole horses at least, I do not know what else—they set fire to the women’s camp,’ without thinking, probably, the man ripped his arm away from Arminius’s grip and ran along with many of the others, trying to fetch water and rip down the tents to keep it from spreading. The wind changed. Suddenly, all Arminius could smell was burning wool, leather, and flesh, and the roar of the fires didn’t drown out the screaming—he ran to join them, but as he came to the first burnt-out tents, now sodden with water and collapsed upon themselves, some of the women had begun to drag the bodies out from beneath—Arminius looked them over: some merely suffocated, others charred beyond any hope of recognition, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blackened arm sticking out from beneath an un-burnt swathe of the tent’s roof, ‘There is someone else!’ he called, stepping over the wreckage until he reached the arm, throwing back the tent—the woman’s bronze hair spilling freely across the ground beneath her, her deep blue dress gathered softly across her prone form, free hand resting across her rounded belly. Her face was clean but for its long, pink scar and eye had fluttered closed as if barely sleeping, but as he sank to his knees beside her and his trembling fingers rested on the slack skin of her cheek, he could not breathe— </p><p>But when he opened his eyes, he was in his own home. He buried his hands into the pelts beneath them and focused on the texture, counting out a breath, before he opened them again and took stock of every familiar inch that he could see: the tapestries hanging from the ceiling, the loom in the corner and warm, dark wood of the wall behind it, the mass of bronze hair that was splayed out next to him on the pelts of their bedding. Ari took another slow breath before scooting back forward to mold himself to Thusnelda’s back, pressing one hand against her chest, watching the dwindling hearth fire over her shoulder as he counted her heartbeats to time his breathing. <em> I am here, I am here, I am here, </em> he repeated, mouthing it to himself as he tried to take stock of every point of contact his body was making with the world. Slowly, his hand wandered down to her well-rounded belly, where Little One was wide awake. He smiled in spite of himself. “How are you sleeping through this?” he murmured into Thusnelda’s hair, splaying his fingers across her and closing his eyes, smiling again at the small kick beneath his hand. For her part, Thusnelda didn’t answer.  </p><p>Ari lay in silence, relishing the feeling of safety he always had with her against him. He had almost slipped back into sleep, lulled as he was by her breathing and warmth, when he heard the low creak of the front door to the hall opening, shutting softly a moment later. He ground his teeth and drew away as gently as he could, pulling the stitched pelts back over Thusnelda and throwing his feet over the edges of the bed, rubbing his neck before pulling on a pair of pants. <em> Mehercul </em> <em> , can I not have one night?  </em> </p><p>When he opened the door to the private chambers, Talio had his hand already raised to knock. Ari raised a finger to his lips for silence until he shut the door, leading the way up to the front of the hall by the horses. He turned back to Talio.  </p><p>“Now what?” Talio shook his head apologetically. When he began speaking not in German but in Latin, Arminius crossed his arms, suddenly a bit more nervous. </p><p>‘Arminius, I know what hour it is, and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you, but I didn’t want you to hear this from anyone but me.’  </p><p>‘Who died?’ </p><p>‘Well, no one that you care about just yet.’ Talio turned away, looking towards the empty thrones on the dais. ‘I’ve got word from the front. Germanicus has advanced significantly in these past few weeks. They’ve taken heavy losses—the Marsi have been invaluable on that front, as usual—but Rome has reinforcements on their way. Auxiliary cavalry.’ </p><p>‘We can handle Auxilia just fine, Talio. We will send word to the other tribes to watch their movements, and you will take our men—’ </p><p>‘Arminius.’ Talio turned back to him and held his gaze. ‘The auxiliary. They are led by Flavus. They called your brother against you.’  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**Latin Translations**<br/>"Pro te, regina mea, quies necessitaria est."--For you, my queen, rest is necessary.<br/>"Mehercul"--By Hercules </p><p>As at this point, almost the entire fic is already written, I'll try to be updating it once a week. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed, and let me know what you think! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Plan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Folkwin shifted in his hiding spot, trying to stay awake. He’d been waiting for hours and was starting to feel more than a little stiff in the cold. He knew they’d be coming eventually—he'd heard them say so themselves. Either way, he was getting antsy and bored. Patience, though, was not exactly his strongest trait. He was doing his best to learn it either way. His return to the forests he’d grown up in had not gone like he had dreamed it would, all those months ago before the battle last fall. He was supposed to return to his home: now empty, but with the knowledge that his murdered family had been given an honorable burial. He could have picked up his father’s work, maybe—or maybe Bilius, a younger friend of his father that had always been around to help—would have taken up the post of brewer. That wouldn’t have been so bad. He was supposed to return to Thusnelda, and Ari would...well, Ari would have had to find something, wouldn’t he? <em> Maybe he could have married that horse he loves so much, </em> Folkwin thought. He spat, more of a reflex than anything. But Folkwin knew. They all should have known that would not be the case. </p><p>That night, as he saw Ari standing before the piked head of Varus, Folkwin could not imagine what Ari had felt—but as he had made his way towards him to try and talk him through some sense of comfort, he’d stopped short when Thusnelda got there first. He didn’t hear what they said over the distance, but the sight of her—of both of them—as Thusnelda took Ari’s face in her hands, standing silent before she leaned up to meet his lips and kiss him with a gentleness that Folkwin knew he had never received from her, her hands threading through Ari’s dark hair and the way he melted at the touch, his arms slowly winding around her as he crushed her body against his, had been enough. What little anchor Folkwin still had was washed away at the sight, and as he watched Thusnelda release his lips, leaning up on her tiptoes to peck a trail of quick kisses down the streak of Arminius’s warpaint from his bloody forehead down to his chin, he let out a small, unbidden laugh. As Thusnelda took his hand and turned him away from Varus, leading him out of the dark and into the light of the campfires, Folkwin had felt cold.  </p><p>It wasn’t like her. That’s not who she was. <em> Why?  </em> Folkwin had repeated the question through his head as he watched Ari move through the camp, seldom sitting down but to speak with other warriors, be they Cherusci, his mercenaries, or even to toast with members of other tribes, and was brought out of his thoughts only when Thusnelda sat at his side. She didn’t look ashamed, exactly: she looked more apologetic.  <em> I had thought you were dead.  </em>The answer had been easy enough for Folkwin to see: Ari—Arminius—had let himself be manipulated his entire life; he would probably never notice or believe it from Thusnelda. Perhaps their marriage had started in the name of vengeance and justice, but Folkwin knew Thusnelda: he knew her better than Arminius ever could. Through Arminius, she could get everything that Folkwin couldn’t have promised her. He was her best chance at the type of power they couldn’t have even fathomed a year before. All she had to do was show him kindness, and he would probably go to his death for her, should she ask. When Arminius had asked him to stand at his side as his prince, that had proved it. Arminius was blinded by her—Folkwin smiled ironically, he understood why—but that would be his downfall. </p><p>As the fall drug on, he and Raskild, the Marcomanni slave woman he’d escaped with, had made their way back east to her people. Raskild’s parents had been kind enough to take Folkwin into their home. He still went by the name Berulf of the Bruchteri, and he found himself accepted faster than he would have thought. The story was easy enough: during the battle against Rome, they had both merely managed to escape; he had been originally captured as a prisoner of war after his village had been burned, there was nothing more that had to be explained. Down here, life went back to a semblance of normalcy, no matter how much it made Folkwin’s skin crawl living so close to a border with Rome—but he was far enough away from his own lands that no one could possibly recognize him down here.  That made it a bit easier. But he knew that come later winter or early spring, he would leave. Raskild did, too; though the longer he stayed, the more she refused to believe it. </p><p>Then there had been word about the baby. Somehow, word had traveled even this far—Reik Arminius and Thusnelda the Seer had made names for themselves. <em> Of course there would be, </em>  Folkwin had told Raskild, and she had nodded knowingly, taking his hand—but said nothing more. When that night, he awoke with dreams of Thusnelda and went outside to clear his head, it was not long before she joined him in silence. That night, he told her everything: their pact as children, Ari's return, his family’s crucifixion—his pact with Wodan for victory; how he would never have to tell Thusnelda, how he didn’t know if Wodan would even reach for him here. Arminius’s betrayal of Rome, their arrangement of her and Arminius’s marriage—the promise for Thusnelda to return to Folkwin once the battle was won. Then, their betrayal: Thusnelda growing hungry for power and Arminius blindly following. After, Raskild had held him in the dark—her body warm and different pressed against his. It had been out of desperation, at first; to blot out the memories, to have  <em> something  </em> else, and it seemed that she understood it—but she was willing to listen. She was tender, she was quiet, and she was demure. Thusnelda was not demure. But there was a sweetness to Raskild that truly did make the days (and nights) a little easier, and somehow, her ease and presence grew into a balm for the worst of it—a fact that he didn’t want to believe at first, but as the days went by, he couldn’t help but welcome it. It wasn’t long before her whole village seemed to know. That was easier than it had been with Thusnelda, of course. They didn’t have to hide here. Most had assumed when he came anyways, and even her father seemed rather pleased.  <em> Should you want to talk of her hand nearer to spring,  </em> he had said one evening after they’d finished turning out the cattle,  <em> I am sure something could be arranged.  </em> Folkwin had been startled by this. Not knowing what else to say, he finally managed,  <em> I have nothing I can offer for her </em> . Her father had waved his hand, but suddenly looked at him, his gaze hard.  <em>  Rome doesn’t send girls as beautiful as my daughter to hard labor. You’ve heard the stories of how the army treats their camp women; her fate would have been worse than death. </em>   <em> You returned her to us. For me, that is enough.  </em>They had spoken no more of it. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad—he would never have a life among the Cherusci again, there was nothing left for him there. Raskild was kind. She was thoughtful. She sang to him, she listened, and she had followed him without question—but again. Raskild was not Thusnelda. She would never be Thusnelda. </p><p><em> But would that be so bad? </em> </p><p>Then came more news. Merchants from the north, passing through—several of whom were Cherusci from an outlying village that Folkwin knew of, but had never been to. Folkwin had struck up conversation as soon as he could—<em> My sister was married off to a Cherusci man; even since she’s passed, I still like to hear news,  </em> and they had been glad to tell him. The new reik and the swordsman at his left hand, Talio, had been leading and organizing the raids of all remaining Roman tribute caravans: harrying scouts, putting pressure on tribes that had remained loyal to Rome. He was not, however, looking for a throne.  <em> He wants no part of it, I hear,  </em> one of the merchants said.  <em> Good thing, too. We’ll have enough on our hands when Rome comes back in spring. They’re already on the move, and when his wife Thusnelda has that baby, we’ll have more trouble, you mark me.  </em> Another agreed, turning to Folkwin, almost like it was a sort of secret.  <em> She’s too far on.  </em> He shook his head, a murmur of agreement passing around.  <em> There is no way. I was at the wedding. Unless she’s got twins, the reik’s first ‘heir’ is a bastard.  </em> </p><p>Folkwin had barely remembered to breathe, but Raskild suddenly called his name, taking his hand and dragging him away with some apology to the merchants about how supper was getting cold. That night, she did not stop him from drinking until he could not stand, and she made excuses to her father. </p><p>When he told her he was leaving, she went very, very quiet. At first, he was confused at the pang of guilt shooting through his chest to see the color drain from her cheeks and her gaze turn down, but when she managed to look up at him, eyes gleaming with tears that had not yet welled over, he understood. <em> Will you come back?  </em> Her voice wavered, her face framed by her hair fallen from her low, dark braid, stark against the red of the fox pelt lining the collar of her cloak. Her hands trembled beneath his. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. As she sank into silent weeping, he pulled her into his arms. They sat together in the cold winter sun as he rocked her close against him. When her tears were spent, she finally asked the question he had been dreading.  <em> That is your bastard, isn’t it? </em> </p><p>He had taken a slow breath, begging for strength from whatever gods that ruled this forest before finally speaking, the word quick and curt. <em> Yes.  </em> </p><p>She set her shoulders, picking at the hem of his cloak. Finally, she turned her eyes to his. <em> If you take that child for Wodan, you would make them both suffer.  </em> She looked away, drawing her hands back to her own lap and clasping them together beneath her own cloak.  <em> And you will not have to sacrifice any future children. Should you have them. </em> </p><p>He realized it only as he spoke the words: <em> I love you.  </em> </p><p>He spoke with her father the next day. An agreement was reached for their marriage—and he told him that before he would feel worthy of her hand, he was leaving for home—he had to try to find his mother one last time. The merchants, he said, had told him that a few surviving refugees from several Bruchteri towns had managed to make their way to safety, and though it was nearly hopeless, it was enough. Her father understood. <em> You are a man of honor, Berulf. I will be glad for my daughter to be yours. </em> </p><p>He swore to them all that he would be back before the summer, hopefully with his mother in tow. Raskild, for her part, backed up his lies, even going with her family to offer sacrifice to bless his journey. Her father even gave him a horse: so long as he promised to return, and to care for his daughter for the rest of his days. He swore that he would. <em> My life is here now. I will return for her.  </em>He meant it. </p><p>He rode out the next day. Raskild had wept, and he had kissed her deeply and sincerely, and as he mounted his future father’s horse and rode out of his new village, he did not turn back for the fear he may lose the strength to leave. As he rode past the borders of Marcomanni land, he repeated the words that would keep him going. <em> I will return for you. </em> </p><p>The journey would not be quick. Rome was indeed on the move, and their soldiers and scouts were everywhere—but at least he, as a lone rider, was able to slip through well and undetected. On the way, he wasn’t exactly sure what to do or where to go; his only plan had been to go until...well, until he found the baby, took it, and drowned it, just like he’d promised. He smiled to himself, a bit sadly. <em> Thusnelda was always better with the plans.  </em>Eventually, he took to tailing Roman scouts—he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d expected to find, but he was getting an idea of which tribes were still working with them. It wasn’t as many as he’d hoped. It wasn’t quite enough to sew as much chaos as he knew was needed to tip power away from Arminius and the Cherusci, even if he still heard that Arminius was keeping the Cherusci to themselves, only taking what he needed—and still helping the other tribes, without too steep of demands. Thusnelda for her part, was organizing treaties with the tribes, and again: she demanded no fealty. She made few other demands than independence and peace. Folkwin didn’t understand. It must have been some sort of ploy—she was too clever for this. Given more time, he would figure it out.  </p><p>One day, though, his chance fell right into his lap. He had been watching the roads for days with almost nothing to show for it. Exasperated, he was ready to move on and keep going up north (he knew it was risky going so close to Cherusci lands again, but what else could he do?) when a pair of riders caught his attention, heading straight to the Roman camp: at first he could hardly believe his eyes, but then he had to bite his tongue to keep from bursting out laughing. Segestes and Reik Hadgan of the Chatti, side by side. He followed and watched as the pair made their way into the camp itself, unhindered by the guards. When they left hours later, there were smug smiles on their faces—and they were going over their own plans with each other. Folkwin thanked Wodan once again for his luck and blessings.  <em> That settles it, then. I know my way in.  </em> </p><p>It wasn’t hard to find their meeting grounds. Folkwin knew he had a better lay of Cherusci woods than Segestes could ever hope to, and he also knew where Arminius wouldn’t look for him—but just as he began to seriously consider the thought of abandoning his current hiding spot to stretch his legs, he heard them coming over the ridge of the hill, right where he’d expected.  </p><p>Hadgan appeared first, alone—which did surprise him, if only a bit. Did he not trust any of his men with this? Folkwin smiled to himself, knowing that Hadgan was probably right not to. He knew that the reik was well-liked by his tribe—as long as he gave them blood. Sneaking like this wasn’t exactly their first choice of tactic. Not long after, he saw two more walking through the trees from the direction of his old village. Segestes, and someone he did not expect: Irmina. He shook his head, blinking in disbelief. As the three gathered in the center of the clearing, Folkwin stood, ignoring the protests from his stiff knees as he did so. </p><p>“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I feel like if you are planning on assassinating a reik, you should probably try to at least try to hide it.” Segestes and Hadgan both unsheathed their swords, looking around wildly before Folkwin stepped out of the trees. Irmina was still as she watched him. “Segestes, Irmina, I don’t know what your son-in-law would think of your little meetings out here, much less your daughter.”  </p><p>Segestes’s jaw dropped and he tightened his grip on his hilt. “You!” Irmina remained silent. </p><p>“Hello, Segestes.” Folkwin smiled, crossing his arms. “I can't say that I missed you. And you neither, Reik Hadgan. Irmina, you had me fooled.” Irmina smiled softly, but Hadgan’s lip curled. </p><p>“You aren’t doing a good job of convincing us to keep your head on your shoulders.” Folkwin waved his hand, looking bored.  </p><p>“You don’t want me. I’m no used to you dead anymore, and why would Rome care about me after everything else that’s happened? They don’t want another opportunity to look like idiots having lost me in the first place.” Hadgan was the first to narrow his eyes, then slowly sheathe his sword. </p><p>“Then exactly what use are you going to suggest you are?” </p><p>“I’m an extra set of hands. A good extra set, and you all know that.” Segestes slowly lowered his weapon as well, glancing over at Hadgan. Irmina spoke first.  </p><p>“As much as either of you may want to argue with it, he’s right.” Hadgan stared back, chewing his tongue.  </p><p>Segestes looked at his wife, then to Hadgan, then back to Folkwin. “And what do you want out of it?” Folkwin stepped forward, leveling his eyes with Segestes.  </p><p>“I want her bastard.”  </p><p>“Why would you—” Segestes face went red. “So it really is yours.” Folkwin only stared back. Again, it was Irmina who broke the silence. </p><p>“And not Thusnelda?” She considered him as he remained quiet. “Ah, you’ve moved on.” She smiled, genuinely. “I am glad for you. Your life will be easier.” Folkwin wasn’t quite sure what to say, but Irmina spoke again before the silence could become uncomfortable. “So. I suppose we should catch you up, then, if you are going to join us.”  </p><p>Segestes whipped his eyes to her. “Join us?!” Hadgan shrugged.  </p><p>“He’s a dead man up here, Segestes, and he’s put more trouble in Rome’s side than anyone else but your son and daughter. He won’t hurt.” Irmina rose her hand to quiet the men, then turned back to Folkwin.  </p><p>“Well, Folkwin, I will be honest: it is not going as well as it could be. Rome has made much progress and covered much ground, and they have destroyed much on their way here, but I fear that they are at the end of their wits. When Arminius finally goes back out to battle, the tribes <em> will  </em>rally behind him. He’s proven himself before. All he has ever asked of any of them since is that should he come to their aid, they would come to his. Germanicus knows. Arminius has won the hearts of most of the warriors in Germania, and when he calls them to battle, they will follow. I do not know if it will be enough for the tribes to win, but Rome will pull out of a stalemate. So. What would you suggest?”  </p><p>Folkwin only had to think for a moment before it came to him, and he couldn’t help but laugh—which Segestes and Hadgan both shot him poisonous looks for. He ignored them, looking only to Irmina. “Thusnelda. That’s how.” Irmina’s eyes widened for a moment and Segestes turned back to her, understanding dawning on him and lighting his eyes. “If you can get Thusnelda away from Arminius, he’ll be done for. There’s nothing he won’t do to get her back. That woman rips the reason out of you.” Irmina stared back at him for a long time, her gaze unreadable. For only a flicker, though, Folkwin saw...pity? Finally, Irmina nodded, a small smile on her lips.   </p><p>“We’ll do it. She still doesn’t suspect either of us.”  </p><p>Now, Segestes spoke. “After I tried to warn Varus last year, Rome has taken my advice much more seriously. I’ve spoken with Germanicus himself. They’ve pulled Arminius’s brother, now called Flavus, up from the south. He will be leading the auxilia here, just like Arminius was supposed to—but he is no traitor. I’m told he went into a blind rage after he found that his brother betrayed Varus and he requested this deployment personally. He will be arriving in the next few days, if he isn’t here already.” </p><p>“Well, that is wonderful,” Irmina said, her hand resting on her husband’s arm. “Arminius will be drawn away by news of his brother; I’m sure Rome is willing to sacrifice one messenger to be caught and plant the information—Arminius would not know yet, either way. But knowing him, he will leave Talio behind for her protection. If you,” Irmina turned to Hadgan, “draw Talio out of the village as soon as we are sure Arminius is thoroughly tied up with the fighting, Segestes and I can take care of the rest here. Rome has already made it clear that they are going to take us in.” Hadgan and Segestes nodded. Irmina turned back to Folkwin. “Thusnelda is utterly helpless right now. The baby has been...hard. If we don’t do this now, it won’t happen at all. We only have a few weeks.” When the unexpected shock of pain went through Folkwin’s chest at the thought, Irmina’s gaze softened a little, but it quickly went passive again. She looked between the other men, who nodded. </p><p>“Then that’s what we’ll do.” The four of them stood in relative silence before Irmina spoke again, laying out orders for the three men before finishing with, “and I will be there to deliver your child, Folkwin. You don’t have to worry. I delivered you, and I delivered your brother. The child will reach you safely.” Folkwin nodded, a strange twist in his stomach at the thought of the baby’s fate. He quickly forced it down. </p><p>He looked at Segestes. “And you still want to be reik?”  </p><p>“Rome needs friendly reiks, Folkwin. And with Reik Segestes leading the Cherusci, the Chatti will also have the benefit of their friendship. And,” he said, turning to Hadgan, who had been silent, “our friendship will be solidified by your long overdue marriage.” </p><p>Folkwin couldn’t help the flush of anger that came to his face—but he was startled to realize that it felt more like a reaction than a genuine feeling. Maybe Irmina really <em> was  </em>right. Maybe he really had moved on...but he still couldn’t shake it off; not completely. Segestes saw it, either way, and narrowed his eyes.  </p><p>“I never liked you.” Segestes spat. “All I want is for my daughter to be safe. We’ll take her, deliver the baby, and then you can have your bastard. But I want my daughter out of this. After she’s come to her senses, Hadgan, she’s yours.” Folkwin waved his hand, dismissing the comment, and Hadgan laughed. </p><p>“I am beginning to wish I had never spoken to you, Segestes. Your whore daughter—”  </p><p>Segestes spat, eyes burning. “My ‘whore daughter’ is the only person for whose sake I promised you any help, Hadgan, and isn’t she why you’re doing this? She has chosen the wrong side. But once she’s back with us—once she’s free of Arminius’s sway—she will snap out of it. It might take time, but she will come to her senses.” Folkwin laughed, shaking his head. </p><p>“We’ll see.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks again for reading! More soon to come! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Orders</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ari’s head swam. Wordlessly, he walked past Talio, still shoeless, only in his trousers, walking out the front door. The cold night air hit him like a slap, but it still barely cleared his senses, and he walked along the side of the hall to the back paddock, dimly aware that Talio had followed him. Before he could stop himself, he leaned forward against the fence and retched.  </p><p>The weathered, split wood of the rough-hewn slats beneath his fingers and the odd warmth that filled him afterwards was enough to focus on, grounding him again even in the biting cold. Talio was mercifully silent behind him but for the sound of him shifting on his feet, his cloak rustling against his armor. Arminius sighed and stood upright again, running a hand over his face. ‘How did you come by this information?’ </p><p>‘We intercepted written orders, sealed by Germanicus. I am positive they are not faked; the messenger was far too deep in the woods to have been a decoy.’ Arminius nodded, closing his eyes. ‘Ari,’ he opened them, settling his gaze on Talio. Had Talio ever called him Ari before? ‘I am sorry.’ </p><p>‘I will need to go, then. We will have to call the other reiks together, make everyone clear of where we stand, and I will lead the charge. Again.’ Talio nodded.  </p><p>‘I do not think anyone will object, but when they find out it is your brother? What will they do?’  </p><p>‘I do not know.’ Arminius shivered, the cold finally catching up to him. ‘But he is a danger. Having him here may embolden some of the tribes that are more friendly to Rome, knowing that if they kill me, Thusnelda will have to fight to keep her place in the hall. Many will see a claim to that seat by my brother as strong, no matter what they think of Thusnelda or our child.’ He sighed. ‘Well, her child.’ Talio nodded. </p><p>‘Your brother...do you think you could sw—’ </p><p>‘Absolutely not. He has almost no memories of Germania. He was too young. Rome has him, wholly and completely.’ Ari began walking back to the front of the hall, his hand resting on the door when he spoke again. ‘We are very different people; we always have been. We do not think alike, we do not act alike, we barely look alike. He has a good enough mind for war, but not for this land—and not for this people. And he is hotheaded. He will not know what he is getting himself into; he has been deployed to no other land like this.’ He laughed to himself, looking back at the dark village. ‘Not that there is any other land like this.’  </p><p>Talio stepped forward, resting his hand on Arminius’s shoulder. ‘Then we will do what we can. We have fought worse battles.’ Arminius reached forward and clasped his former mercenary’s shoulder, nodding. </p><p>‘Come back in the morning. Get some sleep. I will leave tomorrow, after we have spoken with Thusnelda.’ He pushed the door open and made his way back inside, then back to bed. When he settled back into their bedding as gently as he could, he was overcome with the sort of exhaustion he recognized as one that could not be remedied by sleep. <em> This place has made me soft, </em>  he thought, running his hand along Thusnelda’s thigh to the curve of her stomach, splaying his fingers across it and closing his eyes to focus on the small sensations of movement beneath. As his wife stirred against him, making a soft noise in her sleep, he couldn’t stop the small smile that came to his lips.  <em> I hope that is a good thing. </em> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Talio was done repeating his piece to Thusnelda, Sueva at her side, Thusnelda took a deep breath and nodded, her eye resting on Ari. When he met it, he felt a pang in his heart—behind the set of her jaw and her calculating logic, he saw a flicker of fear. “You should leave by this afternoon, then.”  </p><p>He gave a curt nod. “That is the plan.” Turning to Talio, “Pick your men for yourself, but have the rest ready to ride out with me by midday.” Talio nodded.   </p><p>Thusnelda looked between them, furrowing her brow. “And where will Talio be going if not with you?” </p><p>“Talio is staying with you.” Thusnelda balked.  </p><p>“You need him, Ari. You have—” </p><p>“I have other captains I can trust in battle, Nelda, and many good swordsmen. But no others that I trust with your life.” </p><p>“But Ari—” </p><p>“<em> No </em> .” The force of the word hung  heavily,  and it was enough to disrupt her train of thought. He drew himself up, shoulders squared with her. Absently, the thought flicked into her mind how she always forgot how tall he was. “This decision is final. You cannot sway me, and you do not overrule me. Do not try.” Thusnelda stared back at him, taken aback by the cold glint to his eyes, but when she glanced at  Talio , hoping for him to push back, she saw the same unnerved look in his own—admittedly, Arminius  <em> had  </em>ordered Talio flogged for daring to slight Rome (by extension, him) only once, and not long after, had nearly killed him in cold blood. That was probably enough to of a memory to prove that he was serious. Ari didn’t often form such a wall against her. She forced down her own prickle of fight that began to surface, knowing he was right that she would lose. </p><p>“Fine.” His shoulders relaxed, his eyes softening on hers as he leaned down to take her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss her palm.  </p><p>“Remember why we are doing this, Thusnelda.” He flicked his eyes back to Talio, then to Sueva. “I’ll come for you when I am ready.” They took the hint. As Talio and Sueva disappeared through the front door, Ari kneeled before Thusnelda, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her belly before resting his head in her lap. “Vos non amittam.” She sighed. </p><p>“Then you won’t lose us.” She instinctually rose her hand to run it through his short hair and he leaned into the touch.  </p><p>When he finally lifted his face to meet her gaze, his eyes were bright. “This is our chance. If we defeat Rome here, that’s it. They are throwing everything at Germania. If we can make them bleed enough now, making two failed campaigns in a row? Rome will <em> never  </em>recover from the shame. They are already weak coming this far, and they are stretched too thin. This is the only chance we will have.” When she began to pull her hand away from his hair, he caught it in his own, kissing it again. “And if my brother dies here, that is all the more reason.” Thusnelda wrapped her fingers around his, sighing.  </p><p>“Is this about your brother, then?”  </p><p>“He is dangerous. If I die, Rome will see another opening—and so will some of their more friendly tribes. And he is a man of honor by Roman standards. Not by ours. He learned much more from Varus than I.” He did not elaborate. Thusnelda decided he probably didn’t need to. She held him for a while longer before he finally pulled away with one last kiss, his demeanor suddenly shifting from Ari back to the objective efficiency of Reik Arminius, former Roman Prefect. He disappeared for only a few minutes as he packed his few things and when he returned to the main hall to saddle Fons, the horse picked up on it as well—Thusnelda had always been a bit amused to see how playfully excited Fons got when he realized they were going somewhere, but it did not bring her any comfort now. Later, Thusnelda helped him don his armor, even though he protested at first—but one look and he went silent, accepting her help as she wrapped the scarf around his neck—no longer his red focale, but one that had been intended for his father. It had been the last unfinished scrap left over on his mother’s loom when Thusnelda had moved in, never removed even six winters after his mother’s death. </p><p>As they made their way to the front of the hall, Ari’s arm supporting her as she walked slowly, feet already aching, he stopped her just before they reached the doors. He turned her to face him, bringing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss that lingered on her skin as he took her face in her hands, bringing their foreheads together. “Te amo.”  </p><p>“Te amo,” she replied, closing her eyes and relishing the touch. “Come home soon.” Gently she pulled one of his hands away, drawing it down to rest on her belly. He pulled away and kneeled down, resting his palm across the arc of her stomach and kissing it, his breath shaking. Thusnelda clasped his shoulder. Slowly, he stood again. He untied Fons’s reins to lead him out of the hall to his assembled warriors, to whom he rose his hand in greeting. They responded by beating their shields and Ari thumped his arm across his chest before turning once more to Thusnelda. His eyes tight, he gave a sharp nod, mounted, and was gone. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**Latin Translations**<br/>“Vos non amittam.” "I cannot lose you."</p><p>As usual, sincere thanks to Eastern_Lights for her mad Latin skills!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was long past dusk, about a week after Arminius had left. He’d sent word that the tribes had met; Rome was preparing to cross the Wesser River, and the tribes would meet them there. It was not ideal—but it was not the worst-case scenario. The land up there was still well and hostile to Roman styles of war, if they were able to funnel them right. Both Talio and Thusnelda were confident with the news—but they both refused not to be. The alternative was unthinkable. </p><p>Talio was still awake when one of his riders galloped into the village center, horse heaving, the eyes of his rider wild. “Captain! Chatti; they’re coming. It’s Reik Hadgan.” Talio jumped to his feet.  </p><p>“They are what?!” </p><p>“They have a raiding party; they look to be bound for here. They know Arminius is gone—we counted only twelve, but it might be enough.” Talio nodded, readjusting the braces on his arms. <em> I suppose I was right to be over prepared, as usual.  </em> </p><p><em> “ </em>Well, let’s meet them.” As he and his men mounted, he considered for a moment waking Thusnelda—but when he had tried to stop by to speak with her that evening, he had heard her moaning and retching even through the door. She needed the sleep, if she’d managed to get any at all. While he told Sueva, and Sucaria was still awake (so at least someone knew) they rode out to meet the Chatti without a backwards glance. Hopefully it would be enough to scare them off. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Thusnelda woke to the sound of a low whinny, coming from the main hall. She groaned as she opened her eye, seeing how low her fire was, it must have been well past midnight. Blinking herself awake, she sat up slowly. It must have been her gelding—he liked his sleep almost as much as she did, and he was not fond of visitors at this hour. She swung her legs around to reach the floor and she rubbed her back. Her gelding didn’t make a fuss for either of the two people she’d expect at this hour, Talio or Sueva—and he would be used to the presence of her current guard on watch inside. Could it have been Sucaria? <em> Why would Sucaria— </em> </p><p>She jumped when the door to her chambers jostled slightly, and she tried not to let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m coming,” she called. With effort, she pushed herself up and made her way to the door, trying to rub the sleep from her eye—but was startled as it opened, her father now standing in the doorway. He looked equally surprised that she was awake. “That horse is a better sentry than any human I’ll come across,” she said, stifling a yawn before crossing her arms. “Now, why are you here?” she took in the sight of him, her stomach twisting as it registered. </p><p>Segestes was not merely hastily bundled up to come speak with his daughter in the middle of the night. He was fully dressed, wearing new boots—unstained and ready for travel. But her eye flicked to his side, where his now sheathed sword was belted. “Where is my guard, Father?” Thusnelda said slowly, realizing her knife was on the other side of the room—so were any other weapons.  </p><p>Segestes smiled, stepping forward and opening the door completely. “Thusnelda, I know how much you have suffered through this. I am sorry. I wish I could have protected you.” His smile faded, truly—and Thusnelda was surprised to see the deep, honest sadness that filled his eyes as they met hers. “War with Rome should have never happened. Ansgar…” he looked away, shaking his head. “I know you didn’t mean it. It’s not your fault, and I want for you to know that I don’t blame you.”  </p><p>Thusnelda remained silent for a while before speaking, partly because she was still barely awake and partly because she had never thought she’d hear the words coming from him—or the sincerity with which he spoke them. “Why are you here?” The smile came back to Segestes's face. </p><p>“It’s time for us to go, Thusnelda. We have a long journey ahead of us.” He lunged forward.  </p><p>Thusnelda screamed, but Segestes forced his hand over her mouth to stifle the sound—instead, she bit down, catching one of his fingers between her teeth and clenching down as hard as she could until she felt a crunch at the knuckle. He howled in pain as he recoiled and she managed to stand, taking in the sight of her father, now bleeding from an oddly bent finger and clutching a coil of rope that Thusnelda assumed had been for her and she screamed, “<em> Talio! </em>” Segestes managed a laugh between his pained panting. </p><p>“He is not here, <em> daughter, </em> ” he spat. “Your  <em> true  </em>betrothed Hadgan is dealing with him—and the sire of your bastard is waiting anxiously to meet us.”   </p><p>“Folkwin?!” He nodded, a wicked smile on his face.  </p><p>“We are going somewhere safe, daughter. We'll be rid of your bastard soon enough—his father can’t wait to meet him, and Rome will take good care of <em> us.  </em>They still don’t believe that you, a woman, could have possibly led that revolt. We will be safe, don’t you understand? Rome is coming for your husband, and they will swallow Germania, just like they should have done last year. Arminius cannot reach you. Your guard dog Talio won’t return until we are long gone. No one is coming to stop us, and you are coming with me!” He lunged back at her, but she managed to twist away—his grip was too slick with his own blood. She reached for the first object she could find and her hands fell on her trusted bucket. Without thinking, she hurled it at her father’s head, contents and all, and she used the moments that he gagged and shook off the impact to make her way past him as fast as she could, unable to quite run with her current size, and managed to get out the door. There was no way to bar it from this side, she knew that, and she had no idea if her father had reinforcements in the village, be they faithless Cherusci or Hadgan's men. But there was no use in doing nothing. Thusnelda took the closest spear she could, leaning against the horses' stalls, and she braced herself against the wall, arm ready. Suddenly, the door to the hall swung open.  </p><p>It wasn’t Hadgan. It wasn’t Talio. It wasn’t Folkwin—it was Talio’s daughter Sucaria, bow strung and hair loose and wild from sleep, still in her shift (too short since a growth spurt, hem well higher than her ankles) and her feet still bare. “Lady Thus—” </p><p>When the door to the hall’s private chambers swung open and Segestes lurched through holding the fresh gash on his forehead with his ruined hand, sword now drawn, covered in blood and vomit, Thusnelda opened her mouth to speak but her voice died as she heard the <em> TWANG-thwush  </em>of an arrow loosed. It found its mark. Segestes went silent, collapsing in a heap with the shaft protruding from his eye, the arrowhead buried deep, ending him instantly.  </p><p>For a moment, no one moved. Thusnelda blinked at her father, still and silent, blood pooling beneath him and running in a tiny stream down toward the center of the hall before it began sinking into the earth beneath him. She was pulled out of her sudden stupor when her spear slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground. <em> Dead. My father is dead. </em>  Despite the lifetime of trying desperately to be what he wanted, despite it being her own  <em> father,  </em>she was surprised to feel…nothing. Slowly, she turned to Sucaria. Her bow was still raised, firing hand limp in the air. Her hands were shaking, eyes far off, and her lip was trembling as it looked like she didn’t know how to begin crying. The realization dawned on Thusnelda: Sucaria was a hunter. She was fifteen. She had never fought another person.  </p><p>Thusnelda blinked away the exhausted tears that were threatening to come to her own eye and braced her hand on her back, tottering to the girl’s side and gently taking the bow from her fingers to pull Sucaria against her in a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. The teen shuddered with a sob and Thusnelda looked out the door behind her, scanning the dark for any other signs of hostility. There was movement from other houses, but only just now—the animals were all still silent, and it seemed like any coming commotion might be from hearing her scream. “Sucaria, did you see or hear anyone else? Where is your father?”  </p><p>She sniffled, choking down another sob, her voice far away when she spoke. “Da rode away with the others when the watchmen said…we heard you scream, so I came—he didn’t tell me to, I just thought…” </p><p>Thusnelda hushed her. “You bring honor to your family, Sucaria. You saved our lives. Gods and woods around us, I could not have done it on my own carrying this around.” Sucaria nodded as Thusnelda removed one hand, resting it on her belly for a moment. She took a single, calming breath and reached back up, lifting Sucaria's chin, forcing her to meet her gaze. “I am sorry, little wolf,” she said, smoothing down Sucaria’s hair. “But we cannot stand still. I need your help. I can’t do this for myself, and you can’t do it alone either.” Sucaria jerked her chin with a small nod and Thusnelda returned her bow to her hands, taking her by the shoulders and turning her outwards to face the village. She quickly took the whole of Sucaria’s hair in her hands and plaited it back in a single braid as she spoke. “I don’t know who can be trusted here now that we’ve found out my father still sides with Rome, and that Folkwin is making his move,” Thusnelda said. “I need you to get your brother, and I need him to ride to the village of your father’s men. I don’t know how many are still there since the call went out for battle, but if anyone will fight, any of them can come. I need him to do it right now. Ari and Talio have with them all the men who we know most surely would never betray the tribe, so I don’t know what other option there is. I need you to ride and tell your father that it was Folkwin that was working with Hadgan to attack, and that the plan was for them to give—” she closed her eye and shuddered at the thought, trying to stay removed from it, “they were going to steal my child from me when I gave birth and give it to Folkwin, and Segestes was going to surrender me to Rome. I need you to tell your father those words. Can you do that?” When Thusnelda tied off the braid, Sucaria turned back to face her.  </p><p>“I can find my father,” she said, her voice much surer. “I can find my da and tell him once I’ve sent Manus.” Thusnelda looked down at her a moment—there was an edge to the girl’s eyes that she had never seen before; a clarity and fierceness that reminded her very much of how she had felt as she swore to avenge her brother. Both women jumped at the sound of a door opening, and their eyes locked onto the sight of Bilius the brewer appearing from around the corner of his home. He didn’t seem to be fully dressed himself, but his boots were on and his cloak was hastily wrapped around his shoulders. Seeing the two of them, he jogged up to the hall.  </p><p>“Thusnelda, what’s wrong?” He seemed to have barely blinked the sleep from his eyes as other doors began to open, the faces of other villagers scouring the dark for whatever had woken them.  </p><p>“My father.” She squeezed Sucaria’s shoulder and let her go, and the teenager immediately ran off back to her home, bursting through the door and calling for her mother and brother. Bilius shook his head, bewildered. </p><p>“What about Segestes? Wha’d’e do?”  </p><p>Thusnelda set her shoulders and turned, pointing back into the hall, where the silhouette of his crumpled corpse could be seen in the firelight spilling from the private quarters. Bilius gasped. As more of the villagers came out of their homes, Thusnelda stepped forward, now seething. She looked from face to face until Sucaria burst out of her own home again, now dressed, tugging the reins of a saddled horse. She called out to Thusnelda as she mounted. “He’s getting up and he’ll go soon as he’s got his boots!” She snapped her reins, and she was gone. The rest of the villagers watched her go with confusion, turning back to Thusnelda for some sort of explanation. She obliged. </p><p>“My father just tried to kidnap me, thinking that if my husband and our swordsmen were not here, it would be easy. He thought me defenseless, and he was wrong.” She shook her head. All of the faces that looked back at her were in various stages of returning to consciousness, horror, or anger, but there was one that was conspicuously missing. When Thusnelda glanced up at the roof of her old home, she realized that there was no smoke coming from the hearth. There had been no fire. Thusnelda’s eye burned. “Find Irmina!”  </p><p>Suddenly, the door opened.  </p><p>Irmina was not dressed for sleep. It didn’t look like she had even slept at all. Instead, she was fully bundled for the weather, and for travel—and behind her was her own horse, laden with belongings. She did not look afraid. She did not look angry. She only looked disappointed. A few of the village men ran forward to catch her and she did not fight them. They nearly drug her before Thusnelda, still standing just outside the hall. At this point, Sueva had made her way outside too; she, however, was more or less dressed in her day clothes, but there was a short sword belted at her hip. “Thusnelda, what in Wodan’s name—”  </p><p>Thusnelda held her hand up for silence, seething. Having been forced on her knees before her, Irmina’s eyes were not on her daughter—they were through the open door to the hall, locked on the body jumbled to the left of the reik’s dais. Thusnelda tried to calm her own breathing. “Were you going somewhere, Mother?”  </p><p>“Who killed him?” Irmina’s voice was even and quiet.  </p><p>“Sucaria.” Thusnelda stepped up, bracing her hands on her back. Sueva strode to her side.  </p><p>“My daughter killed Segestes?!” </p><p>“Him or me, Sueva. She did not have time to think.” Irmina shuddered with a sob beneath them and Thusnelda rolled her eye, gesturing vaguely behind her. “Can someone <em> please  </em> remove that?” The two men that had brought Irmina left her sides and Sueva took their place, her hand on her hilt. Thusnelda turned back to them. “Careful...he’s a mess.” She heard one of them groan at the sight when they tipped him over to take his limbs. “Take  <em> that </em> back to his home. He’ll stay there until we can deal with this.” Irmina shuddered as she watched them drag Segestes’s body past her, his blood still dripping as they went, but she was silent. “Now, Mother, do you have any more surprises for me tonight?” </p><p>Irmina took a shaky breath, eventually accidentally breaking into a small, resigned laugh as she shook her head. “I don’t. That girl spoiled it for us, I suppose.” Thusnelda bristled, but Sueva put a hand on her shoulder. Thusnelda slid her hand up to take it, gripping it for strength. </p><p>“Have her hands bound and bring her into the hall. She is to go nowhere until Talio returns and we can all have a much more fulfilling conversation.” Only the slightest hint of fear lit Irmina’s eyes before the men lifted her back up, someone binding her arms with the same rope Segestes had tried to use on Thusnelda. She didn’t fight as she was dragged into the reik’s hall.  </p><p>Sueva turned to Thusnelda, eyes settling hard on hers. “You don’t have to go back in there if you don’t want to right now, Thusnelda. I can get a pot of something on if you need.” She shrugged. “Or I can go in there and slap the nine hells out of that woman for you. Your pick.” Thusnelda laughed before she could stop herself, but was startled when it threatened to turn into tears. Sueva hushed her as she pulled her around the side of the hall, wrapping her arms around the younger woman gently and cradling her head against her. “We’ll get this sorted, Nelda. You don’t have to worry in the slightest.”  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Ride</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> think as she rode. By now, she knew the roads well enough and even in the dark, it was easy to follow the tracks left by her father and his men as they had left. She enjoyed these sorts of rides—even though in the middle of the night—but this time of year, she was still a bit afraid of catching the eye of wolves or some such, but the added knowledge of just why she was riding out was enough to make her jittery. She </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> shake the fear that plagued her as she went. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As night drug well into morning, other tracks added to the trail: messier and harder to follow except in their steady movement towards what she knew to be a bit of a clearing, and it was then that she finally began to hear voices—one of which she recognized.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Da!” Talio whipped his head around, stunned at the sight of his daughter cantering through the carnage of the battlefield.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Girl, what in Thor’s beard are you doing here?!” She urged her horse to his side, dismounting and almost throwing her arms around him, but holding back. Perhaps to keep her dress from being soaked in blood—or perhaps to appear more mature. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Da, </span>
  <span>Segestes</span>
  <span>—this was a trap.” She looked around at the other </span>
  <span>Cherusci</span>
  <span> men, who were gathering to their sides. “</span>
  <span>Segestes</span>
  <span> tried to kidnap Thusnelda after you were drawn away.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wha</span>
  </em>
  <span>t?!” His voice was immediately joined by a chorus of other appalled cries and he waved his hand at them, yelling for quiet. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I killed him, Da,” she said in a much smaller voice. “I didn’t think, I just—I shot him. He’s dead.” Talio closed his eyes and drew his hand across his face. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s safe though, right? Thusnelda is unhurt?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Da, </span>
  <span>she’s</span>
  <span> fine, she almost bit his finger off, and you know her sick bucket? She threw it at him and hit him in the head and that’s how she got away from him in the first place before I got there.” Several of the men laughed. “Da, there’s something else. </span>
  <span>It’s</span>
  <span> not just </span>
  <span>Segestes</span>
  <span> and </span>
  <span>Hadgan</span>
  <span>. They didn’t do this on their own.” Talio looked at her for a long time before he took her shoulder, drawing her away from the rest of his men and leading them to their picketed horses. They stopped by his and he took the reins of </span>
  <span>Sucaria’s</span>
  <span> horse out of her hands, tying them down.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me absolutely everything. Did Thusnelda have a message?” </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span> recited what she was told and answered the questions her father posed of her. When he appeared to have heard what he needed, he sighed. “I was beginning to hope that </span>
  <span>Folkwin</span>
  <span> had just died. Caught a fever; been eaten by a bear. Some sort of blessed chance.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Da, what do we do?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span>.” He turned to face her and clasped her shoulders. When she looked up at him, his face was grave. “I am sorry. I know </span>
  <span>you’ve</span>
  <span> done much. But I need you to ride onward to the front. You must tell Arminius</span>
  <span> about what happened with Thusnelda,  and that </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  
  <span>Hadgan</span>
  <span> escaped</span>
  <span>. If Rome itself is behind this, which I would imagine they are somehow, I don’t know if this is </span>
  <span>something</span>
  <span> they'll want to use against </span>
  <span>us</span>
  <span> thinking they’ve succeeded. But if he thinks </span>
  <span>something’s</span>
  <span> happened to her, I don’t know what he’ll do. He must know. If he thinks </span>
  <span>he’s</span>
  <span> lost her, we are all doomed.” </span>
  <span>Sucaria’s</span>
  <span> eyes went tight for a moment, but she set her jaw, resolute. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I will, Da.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Take my horse. </span>
  <span>I’ll</span>
  <span> take yours home, he's done. Do you know the way there? </span>
  <span>It’s</span>
  <span> a Roman path, and it’s one of the most well-trod. Stay on it and you’ll be there by the morning, but only if you stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>only </span>
  </em>
  <span>when the horse needs it, and don’t push him too hard or you will kill him, do you understand?” </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span> nodded. Talio untethered his reins and handed them over, refilling his waterskin in the nearby stream before tying it back to the saddle. “I’ve plenty faith in you, girl. </span>
  <span>Don’t</span>
  <span> think too hard about it. Just ride until you get there, find Ari, and pass this on, understand?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Da.” He held her horse while she mounted and squeezed her hand, smiling. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you soon. If you see Romans on the road, if you can, get around them and run past. But do not stop. Get there. Gods with you.” He stepped away and she snapped her reins, disappearing down the road.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was close to dawn when </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span> and her father’s exhausted horse began trotting through the edges of the camp. There had been no one on the road the whole day and night—they had only stopped a few times (for the horse to water and eat a bit), but she was beginning to be too tired to think too straight about it. Looking around the dark camp, she recognized no one of the few that were already up—there were an awful lot of </span>
  <span>suebian</span>
  <span> knots worn on the heads that turned to glance at her, so she knew she was at least in the wrong place. Eventually a man she recognized caught her eye. He was a </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  <span>, she knew that at least from her time near Arminius and her father, but she could not on her life remember his name—either way, she urged her horse towards him. He turned her way, eyebrow raised.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“My </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  <span>, I need to find </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  <span> Arminius.” Her voice was not as strong as she had hoped it would be. He looked her up and down, sizing her up.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And who are you supposed to be?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span>, daughter of Talio, </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  <span> Arminius’s first swordsman. I must speak with my </span>
  <span>reik</span>
  <span>. Where are the </span>
  <span>Cherusci</span>
  <span>?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>If nothing else, he seemed to know the name Talio well enough. He beckoned one of his men, saying, “He’ll take you,” before walking off. The man was silent as he led her through the slowly stirring camp, brightening around them as last night’s fires were relit for breakfast. The man finally stopped and pointed, and her eye was caught by a row of shields whose markings she recognized. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she said, and he nodded, leaving her as she urged her horse in that direction, trying to skirt those that were still asleep—though her horse was at the end of his endurance. He </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> seem to care much if he stepped on anyone at this point. She </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> blame him. As she made her way into the small clearing where her father’s and her </span>
  <span>reik’s</span>
  <span> men had made camp, someone called out her name—and almost immediately, it seemed that anyone who was awake descended on her. Someone reached for her reins and she handed them over, and when a hand reached out to help her dismount, she took it—dropping to her feet with a wobble, falling back against the side of her father’s horse before the man helped her vertical again. Her knees </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> seem to want to hold up beneath her. The circle that had surrounded them parted and Arminius strode through, looking an awful lot like he had just woken up, taking in the sight of her with shock and confusion. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span>?! What are—” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I must speak with you,” she stumbled </span>
  <span>forward</span>
  <span> and Arminius caught her arms to steady her. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have you been riding, </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span>? And why are you on your father’s horse?!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I left the village the night before last, I switched horses with Da when I left him yesterday afternoon and rode straight here through the night,” she answered. “I started—Da—he sent me to you after I went to him when—” she shook her head, reaching back to for the waterskin tied to the saddle. She gulped down a few mouthfuls before Arminius pulled her hand away. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You will make yourself sick drinking like that after riding so long; you must wait for your stomach to settle. What happened? Why did you go to your father? And someone take care of this horse!” Now that the rhythm of riding </span>
  <span>wasn’t</span>
  <span> giving her anything to focus on, she found her mind going fuzzy. She tried to shake it off, but not before a tumble of explanation was already spilling out of her mouth. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They attacked and pulled my father away but it was a diversion and </span>
  <span>Segestes</span>
  <span> tried to kidnap </span>
  <span>Thusnelda</span>
  <span> but I killed him and I rode—” she heard gasps around them and the waterskin was knocked from her hands all together as Arminius grasped her by the shoulders, turning her to face him squarely. When he spoke, his voice was level and quiet. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span>, slow down, </span>
  <span>Segestes</span>
  <span> did </span>
  <em>
    <span>what? What happened to Thusnelda?!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She took a deep breath to focus before meeting his eyes. For a moment, she forgot what she was going to say—looking at him was not Ari, the often quiet, nigh unfailingly cheerful man she had grown to know, but the man that her father told her Rome was afraid of. She </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> help but shrink beneath his gaze, and she couldn’t place his </span>
  <span>expression beneath the coldly veiled anger. Suddenly it struck her—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh gods, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>he’s</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> terrified. Da was right. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She pushed down her own nerves, unsure of why she had them now after reciting the story in her head for the past day. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thusnelda is safe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She is not hurt.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But it is </span>
  <span>Folkwin</span>
  <span>; he has made a move, but he failed. The day before yesterday, he had </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  
  <span>Hadgan</span>
  <span> lead a party of </span>
  <span>Chatti</span>
  <span> to attack the outskirts of the </span>
  <span>Cherusci</span>
  <span> village. That was a diversion to pull my father away from the hall, and two nights ago—</span>
  <span>that's</span>
  <span> not this past night, but the night before—</span>
  <span>Segestes</span>
  <span> snuck into your hall and tried to capture Thusnelda so she could have the baby and hand it over to </span>
  <span>Folkwin</span>
  <span>, then to hand Lady Thusnelda off to Rome. She fought him off and screamed and woke the village, and I ran to the hall as soon as I heard—I </span>
  <span>hadn’t</span>
  <span> been sleeping—and when I opened the door to the hall to see Thusnelda all half-dressed with a spear and </span>
  <span>Segestes</span>
  <span> all covered in blood with his sword out, I shot him in the eye and killed him. Thusnelda sent me to get my father and Manus rode out right after me to round up more men from </span>
  <span>Da's</span>
  <span> old troops that </span>
  <span>hadn’t</span>
  <span> been with him or come with you. Da beat </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  
  <span>Hadgan’s</span>
  <span> men; </span>
  <span>Hadgan</span>
  <span> is still alive, we don’t know where </span>
  <span>Folkwin</span>
  <span> is and Da didn’t see him—the only way we know he’s any part in all this is that </span>
  <span>Segestes</span>
  <span> said so—but Da went back to our hall with Thusnelda, and I’m here to tell you because Da was worried that </span>
  <span>Rome’d</span>
  <span> try to lie and say they had her.” </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span> watched his face, hoping to see some sort of change, but he took a slow breath and held it, closing his eyes. His grip on her shoulders was now uncomfortably tight.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You will swear to me that Thusnelda is safe?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She is, I swear it. When I left, the whole rest of the village was waking up, and Da was only a few hours’ ride out. He would have been back with her fast, and Ma was there, and Ma can fight too. But I swear, Lady Thusnelda is fine. She almost bit off her </span>
  <span>da’s</span>
  <span> finger, I saw it</span>
  <span>!</span>
  <span> He came out of your rooms all bloody and covered in sick—she threw her bucket at him and hit him in the head, he was bleeding everywhere. But </span>
  <span>she’s</span>
  <span> fine, I promise. I swear.” Arminius’s hands were loosening their grip on her shoulders and he dropped his face. He took another slow breath to collect himself, and when he looked back up at her, he had a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips—but only barely.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds like her.” He stared her down, and for a few moments, </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  
  <span>wasn’t</span>
  <span> sure what to say—until he smiled fully, putting his arm around her and guiding her into the camp. Even as they walked, she glanced down and saw his free hand trembling, but his voice </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> betray it as he spoke again, his voice gentle. “You need food, and you need sleep. We will get you settled.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He guided her to the tent she recognized as his and sat her down by the fire next to him. It </span>
  <span>wasn’t</span>
  <span> long before he’d had someone bring them some porridge and cheese, and he ate with her</span>
  <span> in the growing blue light from the dawn</span>
  <span>, asking her about the past few days at the village. She could honestly barely remember them, but she recounted what she could—as he asked for every inconsequential detail from her journey and how her mother was, perhaps </span>
  <span>Sucaria’s</span>
  <span> exasperated face said enough. </span>
  <span>Ari</span>
  <span> laughed and took her empty bowl, standing. “I am trying to keep you awake long enough to finish eating, </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He helped pull her up and guided her into his tent. Arminius gestured at the mussed cot before he turned and quickly began to don his armor, belting his sword. “Get some sleep. This is going to be a long day, and you are not going anywhere. I would imagine we will meet Rome in battle </span>
  <span>later </span>
  <span>this morning or</span>
  <span> this</span>
  
  <span>afternoon</span>
  <span>. You will not be a part of it.  You are only allowed to leave this camp under two circumstances: </span>
  <span>if you see Romans coming with your own eyes, or if you see my body carried back here and you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>positive </span>
  </em>
  <span>that I am dead. If that is the case, then you are to take my scarf as proof—if I still have it—and take </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> horse and ride for home to tell Thusnelda or your father, whomever you find first. He can make it in the day, and I can say without boast that he will serve you better than any other animal you will ever know. Am I clear?” She nodded, trying to take the information in, suddenly petrified at the thought of either scenario. Ari smiled sadly. “We must be prepared for all possible outcomes, </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span>. I am sorry you are thrust into this. We will fight hard, and if the gods are with us, we may have the luck to go home as soon as tomorrow.” He reached for her and rested his hand on her head for a moment before settling to his knees, level with her eyes. “Go to sleep. I will see you on the other side.” As he disappeared through the tent flap and she laid back against the cot, she </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> even remember closing her eyes.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thusnelda would have loved to go back to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes, she felt an odd flutter of fear in her heart. For a moment, she wondered if this is what Ari felt like when he was having trouble staying <em> here </em> , but she put the thought aside—it had no use. Sueva sat with her even still at sunrise when Talio and his men rode back into the village. She  didn’t  feel well, but not quite in the same way that had been consistent for the past months. There was an odd, occasional tension that rolled through her.  <em> It’s </em> <em>  just nerves and exhaustion, </em> she repeated to herself. Again. There was nothing to be worried about. Talio made his way into the hall after passing his horse off to his son Manus, who had returned with a few additional men not long before him, and he took stock of the state of the hall: they had raked up some of the bloody dirt left behind from Segestes, but some still remained. Thusnelda watched his gaze. “We haven’t cleaned the living quarters yet. I don’t quite have the stomach to go in there.” Talio nodded, shrugging.  </p><p>“Can’t imagine why.” Thusnelda couldn’t help but smile, if only a bit.  </p><p>“Sucaria got you back here quicker than I thought she would. Is she with the horses still?” Talio glanced at Sueva before he spoke. </p><p>“She did get to us quite quickly, it’s remarkable that the old gelding she took managed it so well. But...” he sighed. “She’s not here. I sent her onward. To Arminius.”  </p><p>“You sent her <em> what?!”  </em>Sueva jumped to her feet, eyes flashing. </p><p>“He had to know, Sueva, can you imagine what would happen if he thinks something has happened to her?!” Talio jerked his hand at Thusnelda, who looked between the two of them. “If this really is Folkwin’s doing, and if Segestes was headed to Rome with her, you can count Rome had other plans! The only way they’ll get to Arminius is through you, Thusnelda, and you know that.” He turned back to her, eyes much softer. Thusnelda sighed, dropping her head in her hands.  </p><p>“I know.”  </p><p>She didn’t find herself startled when Sueva’s arms wrap her, and as she realized she was crying, she found that she was not surprised to feel Talio’s enveloping them both. Sueva spoke softly to her as she wept, running her fingers through Thusnelda’s still-loose hair.  </p><p>When her tears were spent, Thusnelda finally rubbed her hand across her face, sitting back up and asking Sueva for a drink of water. “I need to speak with my—with Irmina.” Sueva’s lips tightened and she furrowed her brow.  </p><p>“Should you sleep first?” Thusnelda was first flushed with annoyance, but she pushed it back down long enough to consider the words. She was tired and she felt uncomfortable. There was still the occasional twinge that ran through her back and stomach, but she tried to ignore it—but she tried to will herself to believe none of that mattered. She had lived through worse. </p><p>“Maybe, Sueva. But if I do, I might lose my nerve.” Sueva glanced at Talio. This time, it was him who spoke. </p><p>“Nerve for what?” Thusnelda shook her head, taking a deep breath and counting it down as she took a fistful of the pelts hung over her throne beneath her, careful to focus on every aspect of their texture that she could. As she slowly released both her breath and the furs, she smiled to herself. <em> I’m </em> <em>  picking that up from Ari, aren’t I? </em> </p><p>“Talio, bring Irmina. And gather the villagers. We will all hear what she has to say.” </p><p> </p><p>“Daughter.” Irmina smiled when she was brought before Thusnelda, albeit sadly. “I was only trying to help you.”  </p><p>Thusnelda didn’t curl her lip...as much as she wanted to. Instead, she shifted her shoulders, gaze firmly on the woman before her. Again, she buried her fingers in the furs now across her lap. She was surprised at how much it really <em> did  </em> help ground her (having never really tried it before) and made a mental note to thank Ari when he returned.  <em> If he returns. </em> Either way, took another breath, then spoke. “Irmina, you stand here accused of the attempted kidnapping of your daughter Thusnelda, the Lady of the Cherusci, with the intention of delivering her and her child, the heir of your Reik, to our enemy, Rome.” Irmina laughed. </p><p>“You are laying charges against me? You are not at liberty to do so, <em> My Lady. </em> Our reik is not here. Only he can—” Talio shifted from where he stood on the dais, at the left of Arminius’s throne.  </p><p>“Your lady is speaking, Irmina. And we all well know that she is entirely within her rights to both charge and judge you.” Thusnelda nodded at him appreciatively. </p><p>“And we all know Reik Arminius defers to me in these matters, Irmina. It is not your place to tell us how to rule.” Thusnelda scanned the faces of the assembled tribe as she heard a murmur pass through them and was pleased to see mostly nods of agreement. Irmina shut her mouth and did not respond, face impassive once again. “Now. Would you kindly tell me everything?” Irmina sighed.  </p><p>“We were trying to save you, Thusnelda. Your life here will end soon enough. The only way to safety is through Rome, and that is the only way to the power you want, don’t you see?” Irmina looked beside her at the villagers that lined the hall. “You all must see, surely. There is no way to win against Rome.” Thusnelda rolled her eye.  </p><p>“That is a bold thing to say while our reik and most of our tribe are away fighting that battle, and while I am here before you—or did you forget who led the tribes in the last one?” Thusnelda shifted in her chair. Irmina remained still. “Now. Last night, Talio and his men were drawn away by Chatti raiders. When he was gone, your husband snuck into my hall and tried to gag me, bind me up, and rip me from my bed for you to carry me off to Rome. What was the plan from then?” Irmina shrugged slightly. </p><p>“Germanicus was to take us in. I would have seen to the safe delivery of your child, who would then have been in the custody of Rome, just like our reik had been—before he turned traitor, of course. And once you had come to your senses and Arminius was dead, you were to be wed to your true betrothed, Hadgan.” A ripple of angry voices rose through the tribe, and Thusnelda rose her hand for silence.  </p><p>The conversation died down, and Thusnelda thought for a moment before she responded. <em> No mention of  </em> <em> Folkwin </em> <em> ? “ </em>And what would that have accomplished?”  </p><p>“We could have been saved, Daughter.” Thusnelda was struck by the intensity of Irmina’s gaze—and the sudden grief that overwhelmed her. “We could have had lives after this rebellion fails; after Rome finally takes this land. We would have peace, comfort, and—” Thusnelda laughed, which appeared to take her mother by surprise. </p><p>“That is what this is about? Still? Power?” Thusnelda shook her head, incredulous. “Irmina, at least I know that Father loved me. You, at least I now know, never did.” Thusnelda closed her eyes, raising her chin, counting a breath one more time as she tightened her grip on the furs. </p><p>“I know the purpose you will serve now, Mother.” Thusnelda watched her mother look back at her, silent. “You will be given to the Women of the Wood as atonement for your and your husband’s betrayal of them, our people, and our way of life. Your blood and breath will be the oath to defend our people from the oncoming Romans. You will go into the bog as our sacrifice for the spring equinox.” Of all the punishments that Irmina may have expected from her daughter, this hadn't seemed to be one of them. </p><p>“You can’t do that,” she gasped. “You haven’t the authority.” Her voice was trembling. Thusnelda shook her head, face dark.  </p><p>“I am the lady of the Cherusci. It is my right to ordain sacrifices and worship to the gods, and the reik will see it the same as I. Seeress Runa as well.” Thusnelda surveyed the faces of the assembled tribe. Some looked shocked, some looked grave, but none were angry with her words. “We do not lightly give blood, Irmina. We all know this. But the actions of you and your husband will bring the wrath of the gods upon us if we do not offer penance. And we have much that we require blessing for.” Thusnelda rested her hands beneath her belly as if to prove her point—but really, it was to try and ease a bit of her growing pain. She watched as her mother sunk to her knees, dissolving into tears.  </p><p>“Thusnelda,” she pleaded, shaking her head. “You can’t; I’m your mother, what family will you have left?!” Thusnelda turned her eyes to Talio, then to Sueva. </p><p>“I have enough. I have the brother you wanted to leave for dead, a husband, a child we will love greatly, and others to fight for—and my tribe.” She smiled as she looked out on the assembly. As Irmina wept in the dirt beneath her, Thusnelda turned to Talio. “Have her imprisoned in her home. She is not to be released until Arminius returns and we can both speak with her, or until the equinox.” Talio nodded. “Have another of your men go to Runa and let her know of the sacrifice. I cannot make the journey in my state.” </p><p>“What of Segestes, then?” someone called. Thusnelda looked at her mother, who clamped her jaw shut, eyes desperate as she waited for the answer.  </p><p>“Pick somewhere far enough from here and bury him in the dirt. Do not leave a marker.” Thusnelda ignored Irmina as her sobs began again, and she watched as she was drug out of the hall by a few of the tribe’s present warriors—her voice deafened by the door shutting behind them.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The villagers began to disperse not long after, either to begin their days or to try to make sense of what had just happened. Thusnelda, for her part, was grateful for Sueva’s help as she and her two younger daughters straightened up the private chambers and did their best to clean up as much blood (and vomit) as possible. All in all, they did a remarkable job—Thusnelda could barely see any trace of the mess from the night before, and it was probably only because she knew where to look. Sueva had disappeared back to her own household, however, to prepare their own meal, and promised to bring the food over once it was ready. “You are <em> not  </em>cooking, Thusnelda. You are not doing anything today, so help me.” Thusnelda didn’t even feel like protesting, but she couldn’t help the smile that came to her face when Sueva and her daughters had made their way back through the front of the hall and Sueva suddenly whipped around, pointing at the elder of the two. “Genovefa, watch her and keep her off her feet, or so help me I’ll skin you.” The girl looked startled for a moment before her face was suddenly sternly set and she nodded, beating her arm across her chest.  </p><p>“Yes, Ma!” When she turned back to Thusnelda, she had an air of far too much power for a ten-year-old. Thusnelda let her have it, and she willingly went with Genovefa as the child drug her back to the private chambers, sitting her down and bringing her some sewing, watching her like a hawk—until the girl fell asleep. She’d been kept up all night herself. </p><p>Thusnelda smiled and stood, tucking the girl in—and against Sueva (and Genovefa)’s orders, she put on her cloak and made her way to Sueva’s house to let her know. Sueva gave the appropriate show of disappointment at Thusnelda’s refusal to do as she was told, but she still sat down at Thusnelda's side, forcing her to sit for lunch either way. But Thusnelda still felt odd. The strange feeling that kept rolling through her back and stomach was coming with a bit more regularity now, but she was still trying to ignore it.  </p><p>“So, how long have these pains been coming, Thusnelda?” She was startled to hear Sueva ask her the question, but her eyes were hard. “Don’t play coy; I’ve noticed. Now tell me. How bad are they, and how long have they been coming?” Thusnelda didn’t know how to respond—mostly because she was afraid to. Because they <em> had  </em>been getting worse.  </p><p>She tried to downplay it. “Sueva, I have been up for half the night and half the day—” </p><p>“And that’s not unusual for you. Tell me. How bad are they, and how long have they been coming?” </p><p>Thusnelda’s case was not helped when she hissed a breath with another dull pain that ripped through her body—suddenly worse than it had been. <em> How do you always know?! s </em>he thought to Sueva, frustrated and afraid of what she was about to say. Sueva was immediately at her side. As it subsided, Thusnelda looked up at her, and the look on Sueva’s face did not make her feel much better. “Young lady, you had best keep this together,” she said. “We have had enough happen today. We don’t need to add a baby to it.” Thusnelda felt her heartbeat suddenly thudding in her ears, the pit of her stomach dropping. “Don’t panic, Thusnelda, we’ll hold it off. We’ve got ways. We might be able to stop it all together, or at least we can keep it off until Ari gets back, alright? You’ll be fine if you stay calm.” </p><p> “But what if I—” Sueva waved her hand in dismissal, sitting Thusnelda back down. </p><p>“Let’s get some water boiling for a bath. A good soak will help.” </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Sueva closed the door behind her and made her way to the dais in the hall, where her husband sat on the step to the left of Arminius’s throne. She shook her head, dropping to his side. “How is she?” Talio asked, putting an arm around her and pulling her close against his chest. Sueva sighed. </p><p>“To be honest, love, this might be it. That baby probably only had a week or two left anyways. After last night, I think it just wants out, and I don’t know if Thusnelda can keep it from coming. She’s plenty stubborn enough that I think we might be able to hold off for a day or so but that baby has proven her match aplenty. I hate to say so, but it might be best if you ride out for Ari. He’d beat you to death when he came back if you didn’t tell him and you know it.” Talio raised his eyes, groaning.  </p><p>“We’ve had a month’s worth of nonsense in the past two days, my dear. Let’s all pray that this is the end of it.” She turned up her face to meet his and for a moment, they merely looked to each other in silence. Finally, Talio leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll ride out tomorrow, just in case this is a false alarm. But hopefully Sucaria got there in time, hopefully they didn’t lose, and hopefully the battle is over when I get there.” </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“The Romans are readying to ford the river, Arminius.” Ari nodded.  </p><p>“We do not have the numbers to stop them. We will just have to prepare.”  </p><p>Reik Rurik shifted, gesturing south. “We’re already set up ourselves at one of the lower crossings. We’ll let them in, then pick them off.” </p><p>“Just the same as last time. They have the numbers; we have the land.” As the reiks continued down the tree line, Ari was stopped in his tracks by a familiar voice, ringing across the river. </p><p>“Armini! Adveni. Maestus sine te eram.” Ari strained his eyes, stepping through the trees to a clear spot on the banks, and the sight of the man who spoke brought a sharp pain through his chest. Gleaming in his armor as he stood alone on the gravel banks, his gold hair tousled on his head from the breeze, was his brother—different than the last time he had seen him in one great respect. Even from this distance, he could see that Flavus was missing his right eye<em> —When could that have happened? </em> Ari stepped out of the shadows.  </p><p>The look of dismay that crossed Flavus’s face was not what Ari had anticipated—<em> Perhaps I should have expected this, </em> Ari thought. He knew he must be quite the sight for Rome to behold; just a year and a half ago, the sight of his own appearance now would have made him sick. Ari wore most of his Roman armor still, though now it was layered over the clothes of his people—all blues, browns, and greens, wearing their mother’s weaving around his neck a much more ostentatiously than he had worn his focale. His short beard and the wide black streak of warpaint hashed with white down the right side of his face was perhaps what would have jarred him most. Ari did not smile as Flavus quickly got his expression under control. “Brother, what happened to you?” Ari couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow at Flavus’s pronunciation.  </p><p>“Your German is terrible. And I could ask you the same question.” Flavus rested his hands on his hips, smiling. </p><p>“Oh, the eye? The Seige of Andetrium. It was well earned, and Rome rewarded me handsomely for my service through it. And I will take that as a compliment. I have been blessed not to speak this...<em> language  </em>for some time.”  </p><p>Ari let the comment go. “You know, we match.” Arminius tapped the black streak across his face. “Or at least, you match Thusnelda—if you remember her. She gave her eye for our victory last fall, did you hear?” Flavius laughed, but he seemed more amused than anything.  </p><p>“I did hear that you were expecting an heir. Tell me, do you douse the fire first? Or do you just close your eyes?” Ari felt the biting cold of anger rise through him, but he did not move. He took a deep breath in through his nose.  </p><p>“Leave her out of this, Fin—” </p><p>“Don’t you dare!” Flavious cut him off. “Don’t you dare call me by that name, Arminius.” </p><p>“It’s Ari.” Ari sighed, shaking his head. He was pleased to feel the cold ebb away, if only slightly. “Fine. Flavus. If we are going to do this, let us just use our <em> proper  </em>names, then.” </p><p>“Your only <em> proper  </em>name is Arminius, Brother, and you do not even deserve that dignity. But I will do what I can.” Ari raised his hands in dismissal of the comment. </p><p>“Why are you here, Brother?”  </p><p>“Why am I here?” Flavus scoffed, looking through the trees behind Ari at the shadows of the tribesmen, armored and painted. “I am here to speak with <em> you,  </em>Arminius, and I am here to pronounce your doom!”  </p><p>“Our doom? Do you not see? Rome has won battles on its way here, that is true, but they meet the tribes unified today. They can’t pick apart single villages like they have, and Rome has taken heavy losses to get this deep into our woods. And have you learned nothing from the last time Rome happened to come against me?” Arminius smiled, crossing his arms. “It did not go well.”  </p><p>“You led Pater to his death, Arminius!” </p><p>“Varus killed our father, Flavus. Varus used us, since the day we were taken. He cared for us only as tools. Think of all he kept us from.” He shook his head. “Brother, we belonged here, among our own people. We were meant to be free of commands and rule, and we were meant to be who <em> we  </em> wanted to be. Not bent in the shapes that Rome  desired !” Arminius gestured back at his bank, eyes falling over his warriors. “ <em> You  </em>belong with us. You do not belong there among our jailers any longer. Please, Brother, this is your only chance. Come home.” He had expected it, but it did not hurt any less when Flavus laughed.  </p><p>“You expect to sway me to your side of this...backwards, filthy, ignorant, rabble?” a rumble of anger went through the assembly behind Ari and he rose his hand for silence, which he was slightly surprised he received. Flavus seemed equally impressed, and almost unnerved. Finally he rose his chin, squaring his shoulders. “Look at yourself, Arminius. How could you fall so far?” Flavus turned and began walking back to the trees, only to stop and look back at Ari for some time, silent. “I gave you a chance for a quick and painless death, Ari. You’ve made your choice.” A smirk came across his face. “And don’t worry about your beautiful wife. Segestes brought her to us, safe and sound. Rome is caring for her well and will see to the safe birth of your child. It should be any day now, shouldn’t it? Have you thought of a name? I think...” he paused, over-miming heavy thought. “What about Thumelicus? It’s a better version of one of your Germanic names, to be sure. But you know the comfort and kindnesses that Rome gives to its tributes. I’ll see to it that he’s named, and... dealt with.”  </p><p>Ari felt the anger rise back up at the thought, but he couldn’t hold back the laughter that burst from him. Even over the distance across the river, it was easy to see the look of bewilderment that passed over Flavus’s face. </p><p>“Oh, Flavus,” Ari called, smiling. “You tried.  Hadgan did manage his diversion, that’s true; and Segestes tried to take her from her bed in the middle of the night. But he failed. Lady Thusnelda herself beat him down, and as Segestes tried to escape, his tail between his legs at being whipped and beaten by his own pregnant daughter, he was killed by a fifteen-year-old village girl who had been roused from sleep by his screams of terror. Word came to us this morning.” When Flavus began to speak again, he almost sounded hesitant.  </p><p>“I can understand your desire to bluff, Brother—"  </p><p>“Bluff?!” Arminius opened his arms, shaking his head. “You have been beaten! The linchpin of your plan was to make me mad with grief, was it not? To make me sloppy?! Instead, you have again given us all proof of Rome’s weakness! Rome has no power here any longer! You can sway some to follow, but those who do are weak; only desperate to eat scraps gifted to them by an empire grown fat and undeserving of its ill-gotten glory!” Arminius thumped his arm across his chest and the slow build of rhythmic <em> thud, thud, thud  </em> of swords on shields built behind him, echoing through the woods. Looking across the assembled Romans through the trees, he switched to Latin. ‘What have you lost, coming this deep into our lands? What more will you lose at our hands today? How many of you will we hang and drown and burn alive as offerings tonight? How many of your bones will be strung through our trees?’ Arminius was pleased at the unsteady movement through the ranks and—even from this distance—the furious flush coming to  Flavus's  cheeks. Arminius spat, locking eyes with his brother. His heart was beating in his ears and the pit of his stomach was cold, but he held tight to the thought of everything that stood behind him: his own tribe, the others, and miles away his own village: where his wife was  safe  and their child would soon join them.  Flavus’s  gaze was unreadable from this distance, but he had not moved. Arminius wanted to think it was from grief.  <em> That is what I will tell myself.  </em> Finally, he beat his chest once more and jutted his finger at his brother, willing his voice level. “I am no Roman,  <em> Flavus </em>, and neither are you! If you will not return to us, so be it! I will stand with our people, and we will bathe in your blood!” </p><p>Arminius turned away, stalking back up the riverbank into the shadows of the trees. His jaw was set, and the roar and clamor of the tribesmen gave him strength as he reentered them—just enough not to turn around to watch his brother leave. He did not often pray anymore, since he was not sure how his own gods felt about him, and he made a note to take a sacrifice if he survived. As he made his way to the other reiks, Reik Rurik in particular laughing and flashing him a wide grin. He took a deep breath through his nose, focusing on the feel of the cool air around him. “Send word through your men. Should anyone come across Flavus in the fight, I want him brought to me. Let it be known that I will reward them handsomely.”  </p><p>“Alive, or his head?” Reik Aldarich asked, fingering his mustache, laughing. Arminius did not smile.  </p><p>“If possible, alive. If not, in however many pieces they can gather.” The reiks all seemed to murmur their agreement and they began to reiterate their strategies. As they broke off to return to their own tribesmen, Arminius took a moment to close his eyes. <em> I hope this is over soon. </em> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**Latin Translations**<br/>“Armini! Adveni. Maestus sine te eram.” "Arminius! Come out, I have missed you."</p><p>As usual, a sincere thankyou to Eastern_Lights for her Latin skills!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was two days into fighting, and it was not pretty. They dared not meet Rome in open battle, and each tribe played to their strengths—even as the Romans gained ground, they were pared down from the sides. Arminius led a charge that was successful enough to dispose of most of the Roman auxiliary cavalry—but Flavius himself slipped away as their infantry neared enough for the tribesmen to have to retreat to the woods. Either way, word had gone through the tribes: the one-eyed, golden haired officer was for Arminius alone. Flavius was no coward. He would turn up again: all Arminius had to do was wait. After the retreat from the charge, late in the first day, he returned to camp half to check Fons over and curry him down (he was fine, of course, and he earned his apple) and half to check on Sucaria, who was busy cooking with the other camp followers. She had asked how he was while he inhaled his too-hot food, and when he finally managed to wash it down, he shrugged. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Still alive. You’re stuck here yet. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She tried to smile, but he could tell she was still quite out of her depth. There was nothing he could do, though, and he knew that—he hugged an arm around her shoulders for a moment as they watched the others in the camp moving about, the sounds of battle mercifully far, but the cries of wounded throughout the camp. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am going to sleep. Wake me at dusk and tell the others to meet here. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He didn’t explain or wait for a response before he disappeared into his tent, dropping onto his cot, armor and all.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span> woke him as he asked, and he left almost immediately with the assembled warriors—throughout the night, detachments from all tribes did their best to ruin any chance of rest that Rome could have hoped for. They burned tents, they untied horses, they picked off any stragglers they could find—and while it sewed chaos, Arminius knew that the tribes themselves were taking losses as well. Come morning, it was easier to see just how bad it had gotten but hearing the reports from other tribes as to their movements, losses, and victories gave him a bit more confidence. Germanicus could not win. Not really. Anything less than a decisive victory would be a failure, and Rome would not accept the number of men that he had lost thus far. It was only a matter of time before he finally called the order to retreat. All the tribes had to do was survive until then.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, he was making his way through one of the night’s skirmish-grounds</span>
  
  <span>taking stock of their and Rome’s losses</span>
  
  <span>when he was jolted out of his thoughts. “My </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  <span>!” someone shouted, and he whipped his head around to see one of his </span>
  <span>Cherusci</span>
  <span> warriors, a wild grin on his face. “We have found something you’ve been looking for!” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It only took Ari a moment to remember what he was talking about, as distracted as he had become by the rest of the night. “Where is he?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ve got him back to camp. </span>
  <span>He’s</span>
  <span> already tried to kill himself once, so he’s bound up nice at this point. He’d been pinned beneath his </span>
  <span>horse,</span>
  <span> can you believe it? Caught last night in a </span>
  <span>Marsi</span>
  <span> ambush. They </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> know who he was in the dark and we found him this morning passing through. He’ll never walk again, but he’s alive enough for you.” Ari nodded curtly, clasping the man on the shoulder. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The man grinned widely. Ari did not stay to speak any longer, turning back to camp. The fighting would be there when he was finished.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Ari strode up the slight hill of their camp to his tent, he noticed a Roman sword stabbed into the ground just in front of it—its make was fine enough that he assumed it must belong to Flavus. There was a small cluster of warriors around a tree behind the tent as well, and as he made his way closer, they turned to him and parted giving him full view of the man now bound to the trunk of the tree. Flavus had been sat on the ground with his back against it and his arms were tied open around the trunk with little slack. There was a tourniquet at the top of a severely disfigured left leg—no longer bleeding, but already the bare skin (someone had cut the leg off his leggings to see the damage, presumably) was a bloom of such unholy colors that Ari felt queasy at the sight.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Flavus looked up as Ari came before him, his eye glazed with pain.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Tu </span>
  <span>ratte</span>
  
  <span>perfidiose</span>
  <span>,’ he breathed, swallowing hard. Ari ground his teeth. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Back to the fighting, all of you. Thank you for your help. When this is over, come to my hall. You will all be welcomed with open arms.” Flavus looked between them all as they walked away, some of them saluting their </span>
  <span>reik</span>
  <span>, but all of them shooting wicked glances back at their prisoner. When they were gone and well out of earshot, Ari settled down on a nearby rock, leveling his gaze on his brother. ‘Hello again.’ </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Flavus took a shaky breath, seething. His arms tugged against the rope holding him back. ‘You did this. You destroyed us.’ </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘Rome brings about its own destruction here, Flavus.’ Seeing him this close, Ari’s eyes wandered over the small, clean scar of healed skin flush over his younger brother’s empty eye socket and cheek: </span>
  <span>so</span>
  <span> unlike the angry pink ridge that now ran up Thusnelda’s face and sagging eyelid. The other half of his face belonged of a man he barely knew anymore, having barely seen each other since </span>
  <span>they’d</span>
  <span> grown up more than the scarce letters that had passed between them—but beneath it was still the ghost of the boy he grew up with. He set the thought aside. ‘Your face healed well.’</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘Why would you care?’ Flavus nearly spat. ‘I am your </span>
  <em>
    <span>enemy,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Arminius.’</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘Ari,’ he corrected, as passively and patiently as he could.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Flavus shook his head, dropping it back against the tree trunk for a moment and closing his eye, likely trying to compose himself—it did not work. ‘Why?!’ He sounded desperate. There were tears streaming down his cheek, now grown pale. ‘Why did you abandon yourself? What could this place have possibly given you?!’</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘This place is home, Brother. We lost everything because of Rome, and you do not even remember it.’ Ari unclenched his jaw, which he realized he was holding too tight. He shook his head, running his hand over his face before turning back to Flavus, his eyes settled again on his leg. ‘That will have to go. There’s no use trying to save it.’ </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘It they had let me die </span>
  <span>already,</span>
  <span> it would not be a problem.’ </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘I know, I know. You would rather die than be speaking with me right now.’ Flavus made a face, swallowing dryly. ‘Are you hungry?’ Flavus looked back at Ari, flabbergasted. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘Are you going to offer me a meal</span>
  
  <span>while I am bound before you dying, Arminius? Wine, roasted goose, and </span>
  <span>cakes</span>
  <span>? Is that it?’ Ari rose an eyebrow. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘We will have to see about the goose.’ Perhaps it was the exhaustion, perhaps it was the pain, but Flavus laughed. Ari </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> help but do the same until Flavus suddenly shifted, his voice hitching as he tried not to cry out in pain. Ari looked away, chewing on his tongue as he stood and made his way past his tent, eyes scanning over the few that were present. “</span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span>,” he called, the girl looking up and running over to him with a smile. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t see you come back,” she said, but her smile faltered when she saw his face. “What’s happened?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Get food for me and another. Bring it to me behind my tent.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“To the Roman? You’re feeding him?!” Ari said nothing more than a stern look. </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span> knew it as a dismissal and she disappeared.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When Ari came back to his brother, the vicious gleam had returned to </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> eye. ‘What do you want with me, then? Do you want to ransom me? Do you want information? To kill me yourself?’ </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘You are already dying, Brother. You do not need my help.’ Flavus turned his head and </span>
  <span>spat—a</span>
  <span> decidedly un-Roman thing to do, and Ari couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow. Now that Flavus was in front of him (and after he had spent a day and night knee deep in blood), Ari’s temper had abated enough that his previous day’s speech had lost much of its hold, but either way he </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> now know what to say. It seemed Flavus </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> either and the silence stretched between them until </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span> appeared coming from around the tent carrying a basket and two bowls of stew. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Flavus looked her over, then glanced back at Ari before asking </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span>, “You seem a bit young for him, don’t you?” Flavus asked. She stopped short, her jaw dropping, appalled as she glanced between him and Ari. Ari was glad for the layer of blood, grime, and paint across his face, as it hid the flush of anger he felt rise—but he ground his teeth as he got off his rock, crouching, now eye to eye with his brother. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I would not say such things if I were you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? Are you afraid your little lover—”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed they were all surprised when Ari struck him. Ari heard </span>
  <span>Sucaria’s</span>
  <span> startled gasp behind him as he lowered his hand to watch Flavus, dazed, head swimming as he tried to meet Ari’s eyes again. Ari stood, face impassive. “Do not test the limits of my hospitality, Brother.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Br</span>
  <span>other?” </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span> said, her voice shaking. Ari took a counted breath and turned back to her, a smile twitching onto his face. It did not meet his eyes. It seemed more for her benefit than anything else—or perhaps it was to convince himself to remain calm instead. He stepped forward and took the food out of her hands.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span>. You may go.” She looked back at Flavus, who was still blinking, trying to clear his vision and shake off the impact, a deep red mark growing across his cheek and jaw. When she glanced back up at Ari, his face was forbidding: the same as it had been yesterday as </span>
  <span>she’d</span>
  <span> told him of Thusnelda’s </span>
  <span>attempted kidnapping. She </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> help but shrink. “Now.” She did as he commanded. As she disappeared through the tents, he dropped his head for a moment before returning to his rock and setting down the bowls and basket, clasping his hands as he settled his elbows on his knees. ‘‘If you dare to speak of her or any others of my family that way one more time, I will kill you with my own bare hands, Flavus. Now: if I untie you, will you behave? Pater would be ashamed of your behavior.’ As he said the name, Ari felt a little nauseous—he </span>
  <span>hadn’t</span>
  <span> called Varus </span>
  <span>‘</span>
  <span>Pater</span>
  <span>’</span>
  <span> since the battle and had been increasingly successful at removing himself from that mindset. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘And not yours?’ </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘It does not matter what Varus would think of me. I am not Roman, and I am not his son. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My </span>
  </em>
  <span>father is proud of me.’ Ari sighed. ‘I know you do not understand. I wish you could.’ Flavus said nothing as he looked back. Ari noticed that his brother’s breathing was growing more labored and he almost felt a little guilty for contributing to his pain—almost. He stood and stepped over, beginning to undo the knot on one of his wrists. ‘There is no getting away from me. However,’ he guided </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> now freed hand to his lap, gently untying his other, ‘if you try to kill yourself again, I let you die slowly, and I will not bury you. Am I clear?’ Flavus looked up at him wordlessly but gave a small nod. Ari reached back for the bowls of stew and brought over the basket, pleased to see the few nicer things that </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span> had managed to scrounge up, and he set it between them. ‘It is not much of what you are used to, but at least it is hot.’ </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> hands shook as he took the bowl, but he cradled it against himself, seemingly amazed by the smell and desperate for the warmth. As he shifted to better hold the spoon he was offered, however, he </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> stop his groan of pain. Ari said nothing. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They ate in silence. Ari took </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> bowl when he saw him slow down, knowing that the pain had likely taken much of his appetite. Flavus watched Ari finish with his head dropped back against the tree trunk and arms hung limp along his sides, eye growing ever more clouded with pain and the fresh red swelling from Ari’s fist bright across his jaw. When Ari finally scraped the last spoonful from his bowl and stacked it with </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> in the basket, setting it behind him, Flavus took a thin breath. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘Was she our sister</span>
  <span>, then</span>
  <span>?’ Ari shook his head.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <span>No</span>
  <span>. S</span>
  <span>he is the daughter of my first swordsman, Talio</span>
  <span>. He</span>
  <span> was the captain </span>
  <span>of our contingent of Germanic mercenaries </span>
  <span>who joined us in the rebellion</span>
  <span> last fall</span>
  <span>, but we might as well be family at this point. As soon as his wife and children came to the village, his children seemed to decide they wanted to live as much under our roof than just their own.’  </span>
  <span>Ari </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> help the smile that came over his face—he was gladly </span>
  <span>getting used to</span>
  <span> helping</span>
  <span> carry Talio’s </span>
  <span>four-</span>
  <span> and </span>
  <span>six-year-olds </span>
  <span>back to their own beds to </span>
  <span>sleep, just as he was </span>
  <span>glad to have </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span> and Manus constantly asking every question they could think of</span>
  <span>: horses, war, science,</span>
  <span> or regular, boring, blessed</span>
  <span> advice on everyday life</span>
  <span>. Their hall was full of life and laughter, and </span>
  <span>it would only grow.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘But is she really worth </span>
  <em>
    <span>this?’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ari looked back at him, clasping his hands together. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘Who?</span>
  
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span>?</span>
  <span>’ </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘Thusnelda.’ Ari studied the scar across </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> cheek again. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘She is worth everything.’ </span>
  <span>His</span>
  <span> smile </span>
  <span>faded for a moment.</span>
  <span> ‘If you had never brought her into this, Rome might have won.’</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘It was not my idea,’ Flavus said weakly. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘That is fine. I did not think it was. But you played along, and that is enough.’ Flavus shook his head with disbelief, but as he blinked again, there were fresh tears welling up.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘You were right. I do not understand.’ Ari nodded, looking away. ‘You gave up everything, Arminius. </span>
  <span>All</span>
  <span> we believed in; your honor, our Pater, your life, Rome...everything you have been given and everything you have earned. To live </span>
  <em>
    <span>here.</span>
  </em>
  <span> What could you have possibly gained here that Rome could not give you?’ </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘I have love here, is that not enough?!’ </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘Did you not love me?’ Ari met </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> eye, and for a moment, his own </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> help but soften. Again, he realized he was grinding his teeth.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘The moment I decided to stay, I left you, too. I knew I would never return. I am not your brother any longer.’ Flavus nodded slowly, his jaw working as if to speak, but nothing came. He took a shuddering breath and his already unfocused eye gleamed over with welling tears. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘Then we have nothing more to say.’</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari should have expected it, but somehow, he did not: when Flavus lunged at him, mind likely utterly shocked and dulled from the pain of his leg and from fear, Ari was knocked to his back with a startled cry. Flavus tried desperately to draw Ari’s sword from its sheath—to strike Ari or himself, it </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> matter—but Ari ripped it out of his grasp, tossing it well out of </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> reach and flipping them over to </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> back. He dropped his knee onto one of his brother’s desperate arms as the other scrambled at Ari’s hands, now clamped around </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> throat, slowly growing tighter as his brother sputtered. He frantically reached to Ari’s own chin and neck trying to push him away, and Ari felt the far-off sensation of </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> nails as they </span>
  <span>dug </span>
  <span>in</span>
  <span> to</span>
  <span> his wrist and gouged at his chin</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘You rule a—backwards—people—Ari—’ Flavus gagged, eye wild. ‘Your—who—</span>
  <span>whore</span>
  <span>—wife—’ Ari’s grip clenched tighter and he watched his brother’s face turn red, then pale, lips bluing. Slowly, Flavus stopped struggling. His free hand clawing at </span>
  <span>Ari</span>
  <span> fell, his eye unfocused, and his shoulders slumped against the ground. For a long moment, Ari froze in place until he realized that he himself </span>
  <span>wasn’t</span>
  <span> breathing, and as his hands relaxed and he forced his lungs to work, he couldn’t help the small sound of a dry sob that escaped his lips. He did not realize as he lifted Flavus into his arms and held him, and as much as he tried to </span>
  <span>will</span>
  <span> them, no tears came, but he dropped his head to rest his chin on top of his brother’s blood-soaked golden hair, breathing ragged as he tried to count it back to normal. He tried to focus on the deadweight sagged across his lap, the coolness of </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> armor beneath his skin, the itch of dried blood flaking from his arms, the smell of the dirt </span>
  <span>they’d</span>
  <span> kicked up </span>
  <span>in their </span>
  <span>struggle </span>
  <span>and the sound of the breeze through the branches above them, when he heard another noise altogether. When he forced his eyes open and turned his head towards it, it was not something he wanted to see. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span> stood just on the edge of view, at the edge of his tent. She was pale, her hands white knuckled on the rolls of bandages she held as she watched him with wide eyes, breathing shallow. Ari broke her gaze to look down at his brother, his face now slack. Slowly he willed himself to settle </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> body down to the ground, gently guiding his arms to lay across his chest. As he tried to stand, he stumbled, but he soon found himself upright, stepping over to his sword, which he sheathed, his hand stuttering as it tried to find the hilt. </span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> move as he walked towards her, forcing his breathing into an even pattern. “I </span>
  <span>heard you </span>
  <span>yell</span>
  <span>,” she said </span>
  <span>in a far-off voice.</span>
  <span> He looked at the ground, unable to find words, before he was startled by </span>
  <span>Sucaria’s</span>
  <span> tight hug. It took him a few moments to respond, but he rose his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. Finally, he pushed her away. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Sucaria</span>
  <span>,” he said, hands on her shoulders gently, his gaze distant but sure. “You are not to go back there, under any circumstances. Do I make myself quite clear?” She nodded, trying not to look at the body laid across the bare earth and tree roots. “Now go. I will return when I can. You have duties too.” He turned her away and gave her a soft push, forcing her to walk back down towards the rest of the camp. </span>
  <span>He stood and watched her go before he turned back to Flavus. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Lit in the filtered, flickering light of the branches above, he looked so young—but he looked like a stranger. Ari found himself walking back towards him and kneeling beside him, taking his brother’s hand in both of his, and tried to memorize the face that was beneath him. His eye had already fallen closed, but the warmth of his skin was so strange. Ari hated it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I must leave. I </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>have to</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> leave. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He looked down at the hand again and noticed the rings on his fingers and the torc around </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> wrist, and he carefully slid them off, a flat smile coming to his face when he slipped them on his own over the scrapes and gouges his brother had inflicted. ‘I will carry you with me either way, brother,’ he said quietly, leaning forward to rest his hand on his brother’s golden head, then placing a kiss on his white brow. Ari gently laid </span>
  <span>Flavus’s</span>
  <span> hand back on his chest and stood, turning away. He did not say goodbye.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As he walked, he tried to focus on the rustle of his clothes against his armor, but in the back of his mind, there was a growing prickle of unease that he </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> place—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe it is because I just killed my brother, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought with an odd detachment. But that </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> feel right. Maybe he just needed to go back into the fighting—that was probably it. There was </span>
  <span>work</span>
  <span> to be done yet.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They are retreating,” </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  
  <span>Aldarich</span>
  <span> shouted proudly, blood-soaked and smiling as he strode to Arminius’s side, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’re picking them off the rest of the way as they run. We have enough prisoners to blacken the sky with the smoke and drown the wolves with their screams, and enough gold to bathe in from the dead.” Ari nodded, returning the gesture. As the day had passed, however, he could no longer contain the strange sense of unease that was still welling through him—still unsated even after his continued fighting. He still </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> quite place it, but he felt like he was supposed to be somewhere else. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve accomplished more today than I think Rome could have feared, but it took quite a few of us to do it.” He pulled away and surveyed the carnage, eyeing the dead and listening to the moans and cries of the wounded from both sides. “This is quite the mess to clean up, isn’t it?” </span>
  <span>Aldarich</span>
  <span> laughed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It will be </span>
  <span>just fine</span>
  <span>, I think. </span>
  <span>We’ve</span>
  <span> lost a lot of men, but if you’re right, Rome won’t come back. We can go back to fighting each other by next year.” Ari smiled. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps that will be for the best.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A </span>
  <span>Cherusci</span>
  <span> man from one of the outlying villages suddenly caught their eyes, waving for Arminius’s attention. “My </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  <span>, a message for you from Talio! </span>
  <span>He’s</span>
  <span> looking for you! He’s at our camp!” Arminius blinked and </span>
  <span>Aldarich</span>
  <span> shook his head. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What could it possibly be now? How many more relatives do you have left to die this week?” Arminius shrugged, but began making his way back to their camp regardless. When he stepped into their clearing, greeting the wounded that he knew and surveying the damage to those less worse off, he heard </span>
  <span>Sucaria’s</span>
  <span> voice </span>
  <span>rise up</span>
  <span> and call him over, one hand waving and a far too excited smile on her face—and the other holding </span>
  <span>Fons’s</span>
  <span> reins, the horse already fully saddled. She stood next to her father, who rose his hand in greeting before taking Arminius by the arm the second he was close enough. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Talio, what—” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ari, you’re having quite the week,” Talio said, his eyes bright and a smile beneath his beard. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“But why are you here? Why aren’t you with Thusnelda?!” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Arminius, I’m not having any more of my children ride out all this way again to send word that it’s time. If you want to be there to meet Little One, we’ve got to get you going now.” Arminius’s jaw dropped, eyes wide, and for a moment, he was speechless. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Iamiamque</span>
  <span>?!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Talio raised his eyebrow at his loss of German. “Yes, right now. Maybe. Sueva sent me. </span>
  <span>They’re</span>
  <span> trying to hold it off. Domine, </span>
  <span>I’ll</span>
  <span> take care of everything here; you just go. You don’t want to miss this.” Arminius looked back blankly for only a few more moments before nodding slightly. Talio shoved his shoulder and pushed him towards the </span>
  <span>Cherusci’s</span>
  <span> picketed horses. “Come. </span>
  <span>Let’s</span>
  <span> get you gone.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Arminius repeated as much information of the battle as he could to Talio, and when the </span>
  <span>reik</span>
  <span> of the </span>
  <span>Bructeri</span>
  <span> came by to find them, Talio quickly relayed that he was taking over his post while Arminius rode back for the birth of his firstborn, which the other </span>
  <span>reik</span>
  <span> immediately began congratulating him on, Arminius barely able to respond. </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> picked up on Ari’s uncharacteristic nerves and was rocking on his hooves, eyeing him cautiously—but when Ari finally pulled himself into the saddle, Talio took his arm with a knowing smile. “All will be well, Arminius. </span>
  <span>She’s</span>
  <span> strong, and Sueva and Runa are with her. If </span>
  <span>she’s</span>
  <span> had the babe by the time you get there, it’s proof, but either way, gods go with you.” Ari nodded and spurred </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> on, departing the battlefield as fast as they could.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By now, </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> had grown incredibly used to picking his way through the forest, and Ari was never-endingly thankful for his stamina. </span>
  <span>That being said, </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> had always had a bit of a mind of his own, and now that he and Arminius weren’t constantly training, drilling, or in battle together, he had become much more willing to complain when he was tired and needed a break. Ari </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> argue; he needed to rest a bit too on and off and the ache from battle and riding was growing. He used one of the opportunities that they had stopped for water to scrub his face, hair, and arms clean, too. He was proud of his war paint, but he still </span>
  <span>wasn’t</span>
  <span> used to wearing it so long—and the cold had long since crusted up the blood still smeared across his skin and it was starting to itch. Sitting by the creek where </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> was drinking, he checked himself over, too: nothing broken and only the expected number of scrapes and bruises. But the adrenaline had long since worn off and he could feel his hands trembling with the exhaustion that was setting in. Since it was only the two of them, he </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> have tried to sleep even if he wanted to, no matter if </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> knew the way home or not. He probably </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> nod off even if he tried; the entire time that Ari wasn’t busy running over </span>
  <em>
    <span>what if I’m too late, what if something else happens, what if nothing happens,</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his head, </span>
  <span>he was busy trying to think of anything else—currently, it was thanking Neptune for leading him to </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> in the first place. He </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> bother revering any of the gods of Rome anymore (he figured he was well out of their reach), but Neptune he could still think fondly of. No other Roman god had seemed to ever pay Arminius much mind in the south.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari nearly toppled over when </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> butted his head against his shoulder, his hot breath tousling Ari’s still-wet hair. Arminius smiled and he reached up to run his hand across the horse’s face, scratching his cheek. ‘Is it time to go, my friend?’ </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> stood beside him enjoying the affection for a moment before he pulled away, rocking on his hooves—he could, of course, still pick up on Ari’s never-ending jitters.  </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It was growing well into the night as Arminius finally cantered onto the road leading to their village, and as he had expected, his arrival was announced by the usual watchdogs of the tribe’s children. A few of the girls waved him down as they ran alongside him; Talio and </span>
  <span>Sueva’s</span>
  <span> youngest daughters and among them. “Ma told us to tell her when you got here!” one called, and they all linked arms, dashing off to the main hall. As he made his way between the houses to the town center, however, he was somehow surprised to see many of the villagers still </span>
  <span>awake:</span>
  <span> most of the remaining men had gathered around the larger firepit that they used on feasting days, and all of them greeted him as he dismounted; someone took his horse, and someone else foisted a mug into his hand. He drank readily, surprised at his own thirst. “Where is Thusnelda?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s busy,” one of the older men said, laughing. “You didn’t miss much.” As if on cue, a rising scream echoed dully from inside the hall. Arminius </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> help his panicked glance at the door, and a few of the menfolk laughed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no use in it, Ari, the women will come out in due time. </span>
  <span>It’s</span>
  <span> just a waiting game. Could be minutes, could be hours.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Someone offered him some bread, and Arminius tried to eat—but he </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> make himself take more than a few bites. And as tired as he was, he could barely stop pacing. While he </span>
  <span>wasn’t</span>
  <span> that close to the hall itself (he knew if he stepped much closer, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from going in) they could all still hear the womenfolk inside singing and chanting, Thusnelda’s voice occasionally rising above the others as she cried out the words, her voice barely intelligible through the pain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This will be a long night.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda herself, though, could only focus on Sueva as she helped her pace up and down the length of the hall, counting down with her, helping her remember the rhythm of breathing through the words of the song the women sang. She knew the words well by now—as large as their tribe itself was, the village was quite small, and all the women and older girls gathered to help each other for births. She had sung with her own mother while they had delivered Ansgar—</span>
  <span>she'd</span>
  <span> sang with </span>
  <span>Folkwin’s</span>
  <span> mother while they’d delivered his younger brother, too. She tried not to dwell on the thought. She had Sueva here with her now. Even Runa was being uncharacteristically gentle as she stood by, waiting for things to begin in earnest and passing the time by throwing bones and divining the shapes in the hearth’s coals. When someone handed Thusnelda a cup of water, she sipped some down. Nothing could have prepared her for this; everyone had been right. She </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> even notice the door open and a few of the girls poke their heads in, </span>
  <span>Sueva’s</span>
  <span> daughter calling her over. “Ma! Ma, he’s here!” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s here?!” Thusnelda gasped, trying to remember to breathe as new waves of pain crashed over her. Sueva turned to her and smiled, shooing the girls away. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ari’s back, Thusnelda. </span>
  <span>He’s</span>
  <span> outside. If </span>
  <span>there’s</span>
  <span> nothing else about that man, he has impeccable timing.” Thusnelda laughed, but it quickly cut into a groan of pain as another contraction came. She and Sueva counted it quietly together, and when it subsided, Sueva squeezed her hand. “You’re almost there, Thusnelda, we’re close.” She nodded curtly, taking a shallow breath. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just try and get this over with.” Sueva nodded approvingly, a small smirk flitting over her face. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have any excuses to hold it off anymore, now, do you?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Long past midnight, the village was silent. It seemed that no one could help but listen to the steady, muffled songs that came from the hall—especially as the pace of Thusnelda’s screams began to quicken, her voice having grown hoarse and broken as the hours had passed. Several of the villagers had gotten together and spoken to him about the happenings of the past few days—</span>
  <span>Irmina</span>
  <span> was now imprisoned in her own home under guard and </span>
  <span>Segestes</span>
  <span> had been buried in the woods, far enough away from town so as not to draw wolves. Arminius knew he </span>
  <span>wasn’t</span>
  <span> clear-headed enough to speak frankly with his mother-in-law, so he left her as she was. He had long since removed his armor and eventually grown the willpower to sit and lean his back against the outer wall surrounding his hall, but he </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> stop watching the door. Others of the tribe seemed to be taking shifts keeping him company, trying to keep him talking and keep his mind off what was happening inside, but it seemed they were all aware it was </span>
  <span>more or less futile</span>
  <span>—they did most of the talking at him, and he was only vaguely listening. His current companion, the smith, </span>
  <span>Hrodger</span>
  <span>, had fallen into blessed silence with him. Arminius was beginning to be grateful for it. He took another drink when </span>
  <span>Hrodger</span>
  <span> handed him his mug, and suddenly, they both heard </span>
  <span>Sueva’s</span>
  <span> voice </span>
  <span>rise up</span>
  <span> over Thusnelda’s and the others. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>One more! One more, Thusnelda, just breathe, and—” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and the hall went silent. Arminius dropped the mug, stumbling to his feet, straining his ears, when he heard it: a tiny wail, quickly drowned out by the elated cries of the women inside. He jumped when </span>
  <span>Hrodger</span>
  <span> clasped his shoulder. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations, </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  <span>,” he said with a smile. Arminius nodded, speechless. When he turned to look at </span>
  <span>Hrodger</span>
  <span>, his face must have spoken for him, because the older man just laughed. “Just give them a moment! They’ll call you in when you can go!” </span>
  <span>Hrodger</span>
  <span> squeezed his shoulder and bent down to pick up the mug, turning away to pass on the news. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like hours before Sueva opened the door. Ari’s first reaction was panic to see so much blood on her apron, but he quickly reminded himself that Sueva had told him that would be the case. She smiled and beckoned him in. Several of the village women and older girls were milling about, cleaning up or standing at Runa’s sides, bloody palms turned outwards and eyes to the ground. Runa was standing before the empty birthing chair, her arms raised, chanting quietly over piles of bloodied rags and a conspicuous amount of other flesh that made Arminius’s already anxious stomach churn. They did not react to them as they walked past. Finally, Sueva stopped in front of the door to the private chambers. She nodded, smiling. “Go meet your son, Ari.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“A son,” he breathed. Sueva laughed and shoved him through, shutting the door behind him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda was laying not on their bed of furs but propped up in woven blankets—her sweat-soaked hair was piled on her head in an uncharacteristic knot and she held a tiny bundle against her bare chest. Slowly, her face turned up to meet his, and the ghost of an exhausted smile passed over her lips. Ari </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> even realize that he was moving before he was at her side settling on the bedding next to her. He </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> know there were tears streaming down his cheeks until Thusnelda reached up to wipe them away, leaning forward to kiss his jaw. He should have expected to be at a loss for words—but he could only gaze in wonder at the tiny body Thusnelda cradled against her, the baby’s fingers curling around a loose lock of her hair as he nursed. Ari reached his hand up slowly, almost afraid to touch him, before Thusnelda took it and rested it on the baby’s back. He made a small cooing noise, his fingers stretching open as he blinked, scrunching his face back up for just a moment before he let go and yawned. Arminius was mesmerized when the baby stretched, reaching out his hands and wrapping his tiny fist around Ari’s finger. Ari let out the breath he </span>
  <span>didn’t</span>
  <span> realize he was holding. “</span>
  <span>Nelda, </span>
  <span>pulcher</span>
  <span> est.</span>
  <span>” She let out a breathy laugh, dropping her head into the crook of his shoulder. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He is beautiful,” she agreed. She turned back up to face her husband, eye hazy with exhaustion. “You’re here. I was worried you wouldn’t make it.” Arminius kissed her forehead. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Talio arrived just as Rome fully began to retreat, and </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> carried me as fast as he could. They’re the ones to thank.” Thusnelda laughed again.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Again</span>
  <span> with the horse, Ari; which one of us do you love more? Me or him?” She looked back down at the baby, whose bright blue eyes were open, staring back at her. She bent down to kiss him. “Do you want to hold him?” Ari nodded, trying to mirror the way she held her arms before reaching for him. Thusnelda shook her head, face suddenly stern as she grasped the collar of his shirt. “You are filthy. This isn’t even your blood, is it?” He </span>
  <span>couldn’t</span>
  <span> help but smile a bit sheepishly. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I washed my face.” She raised her eyebrow.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Take off that shirt. You’re not going to baptize our baby in Roman blood the first time you touch him.” Arminius </span>
  <span>didn't</span>
  <span> argue, but he couldn’t help the catch in his heart at </span>
  <em>
    <span>our baby.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He pulled the tunic over his head and tossed it to the other corner of the room, and when Thusnelda gently rested the child in the crook of his arms, he was utterly overwhelmed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ever since Thusnelda had told him she carried a child begotten before they had even reunited—and that its father was </span>
  <span>Folkwin</span>
  <span>—the smallest part of him had held a flicker of dread: </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if I see him and I cannot shake that he is not mine? What if I feel nothing? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He had never tried to entertain the fear, but he had never had so much joy at being vindicated by such a thing. This small creature nestled in his arms, with his blue eyes, fuzz of bronze-blonde hair like his mother’s—impossibly small, impossibly vulnerable—suddenly held a power over him that Ari could not explain. When he tore his eyes away to meet Thusnelda’s, he saw the same in her. Thusnelda leaned in to kiss Ari, her hand tangling in his hair, and when their lips met, he found tears streaming down his cheeks once again. This was everything. This was why. He had never felt so whole.</span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**Latin Definitions**</p><p>“Tu ratte perfidiose," "You traitorous rat,"</p><p>“Iamiamque?!” "Right now?!"</p><p>“Nelda, pulcher est.” "Nelda, he's beautiful."</p><p>Again and as always, I am indebted to Eastern_Lights for her Latin!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Story</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ansgar!” Thusnelda smiled as Sueva opened the door for Runa and Ansgar, the younger of the two with a large smile on his face as he worked his way over to her. While he still had some difficulty moving around, Runa’s care for him over the past months showed: he still stuttered in his steps as he walked (especially if he tried to walk too fast) but his balance had become much better, and his voice had cleared a bit, too. He was, regardless, the same Ansgar that she had grown up with—there was never any changing that. They were both happy to see each other every chance they got. As he crawled up into the bedding next to her and she pulled him up in a hug he said nothing other than his wide smile, laughing as she planted a kiss on his head and squeezed his shoulders. Runa smiled as she stepped forward as well, looking over Thusnelda with well-practiced eyes. </p><p>“And how do you feel?” she asked, more procedurally than emotionally. Thusnelda almost laughed. </p><p>“Fine. Tired. Good.” Sueva chuckled behind Runa.  </p><p>“Little Prince is well enough, too,” she said. Runa nodded, looking at the bassinet alongside the bed.  </p><p>“And the reik?”  </p><p>Sueva shook her head with a motherly annoyance. “You walked right past him,” she said. “He’s dead to the world. Made a bed up for him out there in the hall; I’ve been going out to make sure he’s still breathing every hour or so. Almost had to beat him with a stick to get him there originally, but that man hadn’t slept in three days. I’ve been here to help. So have others.” Thusnelda sighed, and Sueva shot her a knowing glance. As of last night, Ari was having trouble keeping upright long enough to even have a conversation. Going straight two full days of battle with a three-hour nap in-between, then to a full night of riding, then into a whole day with a newborn wasn’t doing either of them any good—and Sueva was unmovable in her opinion that if he tried to hold the baby any longer after that, he’d drop him. The fact that he seemed almost too confused to argue was enough to prove her point. “I’m sure he’ll wake up soon enough.”  </p><p>Thusnelda was gently rocking Ansgar as he curled against her when she looked down at him, smiling. “Ansgar, would you like to meet the baby?” He craned his neck to look up at her, considering before he spoke.  </p><p>“He’s wet.” Thusnelda looked back at him, startled. When she looked up at Runa, the seeress’s smile was gone. Instead, she was focused, all attention now on Ansgar. </p><p>“When is he wet?” </p><p>Ansgar didn’t answer, tipping himself in Thusnelda’s lap so he could see into the bassinet, where his new nephew was stirring awake from the new noise. As the baby scrunched his face, Sueva stepped in to lift him, cradling him against her before he could start crying in earnest. Thusnelda reached for him as Ansgar pulled himself out of her lap, appearing almost mystified at the swaddled bundle now settled in her arms. Thusnelda changed the subject, not wanting to focus on whatever his foresight could mean. “Runa, when will we take the oaths?”  </p><p>Runa came forward to look the baby over, then stared at Thusnelda herself for an uncomfortable amount of time before speaking. “The equinox comes in five days. You will name this child the day of the equinox, and the dusk before is when your mother will go to the bog.” Thusnelda nodded. It had become a very abstract sort of thought. She hadn’t spoken about it once with Ari since he’d returned—they hadn’t really spoken about much at all, but again, they’d had their hands full—and he had been too deliriously tired to get much out of him for most of it. She’d already begun the village’s preparations for planting and their feast for the first day into spring while he’d been gone. By next week, most of the tribesmen should have begun returning home from the battlefront as well. Rome was hopefully making good time in their retreat. Germanicus would not pleased, but the Emperor would be even more so if the army stayed. </p><p>“We have our own sacrifices set aside. Irmina is preparing herself as well.” Runa seemed pleased.  </p><p>“You have made a wise choice in the blood you’re offering, Thusnelda. She has spat on our ways and on our gods—but her will is great enough that once she meets them face to face, she should have the strength to prove our worth. She is doing no good here playing as a god herself.” The comment was a bit accusatory, but Runa said nothing else. After Thusnelda gave her eye, it appeared that the old seeress had been appeased, at least in part. Thusnelda now understood why. </p><p>She had been terrified. Standing before the tribes as she’d screamed and made the cut, the world around her had fallen away in white light, and at first, she just assumed it had been from the pain—but then the pain had gone, as quickly as a breath. As she rose her eyes again, they saw blood, fire, and rain, and she saw victory; she heard screaming and singing and weeping of pain, grief, and joy, with the sky blotted out with ravens and the miles of unburied bones that would lay undisturbed long past her own life. Having a vision was not like she had thought it would be: the battle building, rolling, pouring through her all at once, but with every single moment clear and glorious. But after the battle when she met Runa in the dark of the tribes' camp<em> ,  </em> Runa gave no indication that her fate had changed.  <em> The gods have special ways to punish us. </em>  Runa had said little more, even for a few of the times Thusnelda had gone to her alone afterwards—but before she herself had gotten too ill to move around too much, Thusnelda had gone to the bog alone again to plead with the gods to give her a sign, or at least to try to prove that her lies had been to protect them all. They had said nothing. She didn’t know what to make of that until Runa had sat silent, studying her, finally saying,  <em> I hope you have learned your lesson.  </em> </p><p>Now, Runa made her way to the fire and kneeled before it, looking into the coals, considering. “It is lucky chance that your child was born to be blessed with that blood as well. He will need it.” When Ansgar began to giggle at this behind her, now clutching at the swaddling of old plaid around his new nephew, Thusnelda almost lost the strength to ask. </p><p>“What can we do?” </p><p>“Nothing! Make your sacrifices for the tribe and take your oaths as his mother and father. So long as the reik still plans to take the oaths.” As Runa was speaking, the door opened and Ari stepped into the room, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  </p><p>“I already swore to both you and Thusnelda that I would take the oaths. I’ll raise him as mine because he is.” Runa nodded, again seeming pleased.  </p><p>“We will come then.” She reached out her hands, beckoning to Ansgar, who (after Thusnelda planted another quick kiss on his head) wiggled his way out of the pile of bedding away from his sister, hobbling over to meet Runa. As they left, he waved behind him, a smile on his face. Sueva nodded and walked out with them. She shut the door after her. </p><p>Ari came forward and settled at Thusnelda’s side, peering over her arms at Arnulf with eyes lit with wonder. “How do you feel?” he asked, turning up to her and now tracing circles across her back.  </p><p>“I am tired,” she admitted, leaning into him. He readily wrapped his arms around her and cradled her and the baby against him, kissing the top of her head. “How are you? You didn’t die, so that is a good start.” He laughed quietly, shaking his head. </p><p>“Not this time.” He squeezed her lightly before pulling away to stand, stretching with a wide yawn. “You didn’t, either.” Thusnelda laughed.  </p><p>“You’re right, I suppose I didn’t.” Ari walked over to the other side of the room to draw a drink for the both of them before coming back to sit with her, and she accepted the mug with an appreciative smile. “That, however, was not enjoyable. You should be glad you weren’t a part of it.”  </p><p>“I thought it was bad enough hearing it from outside.” Thusnelda made a face. </p><p>“Well, just know it felt twice as bad as it probably sounded.” Ari watched her face before turning down to look at the baby, now seemingly content. “Do you still think he’s so beautiful?”  </p><p>“He is perfect,” he said, smiling as he reached out to trace the curve of the baby’s cheek and chin. “He looks just like you.” Thusnelda smiled and placed a quick kiss on Ari’s forehead.  </p><p>“I hope he stays that way.” Ari’s smile faded and he sat back, his hand now catching hers. Thusnelda sighed and looked away for a moment before she met his eyes again, his gaze shallow and unreadable. But there was a tension in his eyes that had become familiar again as Rome’s campaign had come north into their lands and she felt him mask the tremor in his hand by rubbing circles across her own with his thumb.  </p><p>“What happened, Thusnelda?” There was no hint in his voice, but it was almost a whisper. Thusnelda wondered if he had tried to speak any louder it would have shaken. She twisted her hand upwards to clasp his, but let him continue to trace his thumb across her own. She took a small breath and nodded as if reassuring herself.  </p><p>“Exactly what Sucaria told you, probably. My father came in here in the middle of the night, after Hadgan and the Chatti had drawn away Talio and his men. Sucaria saved our lives.” Thusnelda met his eyes. “But it was never my father. It was all Irmina. The whole time.” Thusnelda sighed, looking down to the baby as he wiggled in her arms. “She was the one pushing him towards Rome. She was probably the one who convinced him to try to betray you to Varus in the first place.”  </p><p>Ari looked back at her for a long while before nodding softly. “Then it was probably best I was not here. I do not have your restraint.” Thusnelda breathed a hollow laugh. “I should probably speak with her as well, then. What did she say about Folkwin? Where is he?” At this, Thusnelda shook her head.  </p><p>“She didn’t say a word about him. Only Segestes did, when he was here that night. But I am more inclined to believe my father’s slipup than my mother’s omission. Either way, it doesn’t help us. And I don’t think she will say anything else.” Ari nodded, watching her face. “How are you? Did you see your brother?” Ari looked away, glancing over at the fire. Thusnelda watched the tension rebuild in his jaw and spread into his shoulders, but he remained quiet until the baby made a sudden, tiny noise between them—seemingly drawing him out of his thoughts just enough to respond. </p><p>“I killed him,” he said in a thin voice, still avoiding her eyes. Thusnelda pulled her hand away from his and she felt him shrink, but he shivered, eyes clenching shut as she threaded her fingers through his hair. Just as she’d done on their first night home from the battle of Teutoburg Forest and every bad night since, she cupped his face in her hand and ran her thumb across his cheek. She watched his chest as he timed his breathing to the rhythm she set, but his eyes remained closed. </p><p>“You met him on the field?”  </p><p>“No.” It was then that Thusnelda noticed the scratches on his wrists and the underside of his neck and chin—few were deep, but all came from beneath. She didn’t have to think too hard to imagine what they must be from. “He...” Ari stopped with a shuddering breath, quickly matching her rhythm again, but shallowly. Thusnelda watched as his shoulders continued to slump and he leaned into her touch, one hand now grasping her wrist as if he was afraid he would lose any connection with <em> here  </em> without it. The other lay limply in his lap. She noticed that there were new rings on his fingers and a new  torc  on his wrist.  <em> Probably not random spoils,  </em>she thought—Ari didn’t tend to take them normally. </p><p>“We don’t have to speak of this now, amica mea.”  </p><p>“Yes, we do,” he said weakly. “Or we won’t.” Thusnelda nodded. Before he could stop himself, he began to speak in a low, but even, voice. “As Rome began their crossing, he called me out to speak across the banks of the river. He stood on the east bank as I stood on the west. It must have been quite the sight for both our sides: two brothers, a Roman versus a Barbarian. Something for the histories, to be sure.” He smiled to himself sadly. “But he was…displeased with what I look like these days; I think all the Roman forces were. He lost his eye a few years ago, actually. You two match,” he said with a pale laugh as he opened his eyes to meet hers for a moment, sharing her shallow smile. “He tried to goad me into the fight then and there saying that Rome had succeeded in your capture. They would take our child as a charge of Rome and my brother would do with him as he saw fit. If Sucaria hadn’t gotten to me that morning, I don’t—” He closed his eyes. “It would have worked. I wouldn't have kept focused and there is no way we would have won—well, met as a stalemate—and Rome knew it. I would have been rash. I would have gotten us all killed. It all would have ended there.” He shuddered with a sigh. “I knew he wouldn’t, but I asked him to return to our people. He…politely declined. But I was so angry already, what with everything he had said. I put word through the tribes that I wanted him for myself. We were lucky, I suppose. Perhaps. Over the first night of fighting, his leg was crushed when his horse died on top of him, and he remained pinned beneath the body until some of our warriors brought him back to camp that next morning. I tried to talk with him one last time; we shared a meal. But he was already dead. His leg would have killed him in a week and his honor required it. When he tried to take my sword, I…” Ari worked his jaw, trying to choose his words. “I helped him along.”  </p><p>Thusnelda kept her silence. If he wanted to continue, he would. If not, he needed his peace. As the quiet stretched between them, Thusnelda got an idea, and she reached forward to adjust Ari’s arms—but as he asked what she was doing, she shushed him to quickly and carefully settle the baby within them. She was pleased to see how he instinctively shifted to better balance the weight, and she was even more so when she saw the smile that involuntarily twitched onto Ari’s lips. His eyes softened as he looked down at the baby’s small face and lit up when he squirmed, the baby scrunching his eyes and squealing, suddenly frustrated at the movement. As Ari reached up to touch him, the baby wrapped his fist around Ari’s finger, growing still. “I did it for you, though. I would do it again, a hundred times,” he said quietly, and Thusnelda didn’t think he spoke to her. Ari’s smile faded, but he did not tense up again—instead, he bent down and kissed the baby’s hair, eyes closed. “Sucaria saw it happen. I wonder what she told the others. And I wonder what they would have done with his body. Maybe I don’t want to know.” Thusnelda sighed, nodding.  </p><p>“You or him, Ari. Sucaria knows that firsthand.” He said nothing. “You might honestly want to talk with her about how <em> she  </em>is. Once she’s back here, she might have difficulty with what she had to do as well.”  </p><p>“Only if she wants to speak of it. I’ll be here if that is what she requires, like always.” The baby had settled back down and was now well and sleeping, both Ari and Thusnelda sitting in silence as they watched him, transfixed. Finally, Thusnelda spoke. </p><p>“He needs a name,” she said. Ari turned his face up to hers, blinking—and from his expression, Thusnelda could see that that—somehow, even though he should have had nearly six months to think about it—it seemed to have entirely slipped his mind. She laughed, startling the baby, but Ari turned his attention back down to him, gently bouncing him and offering words of comfort. He appeared pleased when this seemed to work. “Gods, I’ve finally found something you haven’t prepared for, haven’t I?!” He shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I’ve been thinking about it, at the very least.”  </p><p>“In my defense, I have been busy.” Thusnelda rose an eyebrow at this, and Ari tried to keep a straight face—but he was blushing.  </p><p>“What about Arnulf?”  </p><p>“Arnulf?” Ari sat back, looking down at the baby again—any attempts that Ari was making to keep him calm suddenly seemed like they were at their limits of effectiveness, and Thusnelda took him back to nurse. As the baby quieted, Ari rested one hand on Thusnelda’s arm, the other cupping her cheek as he guided her lips to his in a chaste kiss. He couldn’t stop the smile that came to his lips. “Arnulf,” he said again, quietly—as if tasting the name itself. Finally he smiled dryly. “My brother suggested Thumelicus.” Thusnelda curled her lip, raising her eyebrow.  </p><p>“And what could that possibly mean?”  </p><p>“It doesn’t matter. It’s a bad name.” Ari bent down and kissed the top of the baby’s head, then again kissed Thusnelda. “Arnulf is perfect.”  </p><p>Thusnelda smiled again, looking back down at their son. “Then it is settled,” she said in a strong voice. “Your name is Arnulf, and Arnulf is who you shall be.”  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Conversation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was another two days before Talio, Sucaria, and the other tribesmen of their village made their way back. They had all heard news by now of the baby, especially since Talio had ridden in to take command of the tribe as Rome began its retreat. The fact that the child was a son—that both he and Thusnelda were thus far healthy and strong as well—was a bonus. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Talio was, naturally, smitten with the baby the first time he laid eyes on him, and that was the first sight either of them wanted to see. Ari and Thusnelda honestly only found out their warriors had arrived back home when Talio halfheartedly knocked on the door to their chambers—as he was </span>
  <span>already </span>
  <span>pushing them open—greeting his middle daughter, </span>
  <span>Genovefa</span>
  <span>, as she leapt from the cook-pot she was tending into his arms, not slowing his strides as he made his way to the cradle. Sucaria, only a touch less bold, was only right behind him. Within that first week until his parents’ oaths and his naming (and the sacrifice of his grandmother on behalf of the tribe), any last pretense of separation between the </span>
  <span>Reik's</span>
  <span> household and Talio’s was dropped. There was never not a redhead present to hand the baby off to if need be, or to cook, or tidy up. Another bassinet had even been made and set up at Talio’s house, for when the time came. But while Sueva and her daughters were doing the bulk of the work in the hall, the village rallied around them from the outside. Ari didn’t expect that to move him so deeply. Their tribesmen bringing both them and Sueva food or other necessities, helping with their livestock, and taking up their shares of the work (for the time being, of course) was a helpful reminder that they believed he was one of them again, and that even though everyone knew the child’s true blood parentage, they were willing and able to accept him as their prince and Ari’s own son.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari himself wasn’t exactly sure if this new state of perpetual exhaustion would quite count as their new “normal,” but it certainly seemed that way. Ari was used to little sleep, but never anything quite like this—but every time he was awakened, no matter how much his head hurt or how badly his body began to drag, he was amazed at the spell the tiny new member of their family cast on him. He felt he fairly quickly got the hang of almost every order Sueva gave him and he tried to take over every possible duty he could from Thusnelda. She obviously had the most important and time-consuming job in keeping him fed, but he could still put him back to sleep and help clean up after him when they didn’t have </span>
  <span>Genovefa</span>
  <span> or Sueva around. She appeared incredibly thankful—but he couldn’t be around all the time. True, the tribe was helping pick up their slack (especially for the first, terrifying week, where the baby and Thusnelda were most vulnerable) but someone still had to care for the horses and check on their herd, even though they were under their tribe’s care. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari was out back in their paddock with </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span>, picking his hooves during one of these “work breaks” as he’d begun to think of them. As exhausted as he was, life kept on—and, as he kept assuring </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span>, he wanted him to look and feel his best when he finally met the newest member of their family. </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> seemed only vaguely interested in the conversation, and even then, his attention was likely only kept by the promise of occasional ear scratches. But he didn’t seem to care overmuch about how not-interesting babies were. Ari assumed that it would have something to do with a baby’s inability to give him carrots, for at least the next year or so. ‘I should not have told you he could not give you treats. Then you would care,’ Ari chided as he patted </span>
  <span>Fons’s</span>
  <span> shoulder, lifting another hoof. He didn’t need to see </span>
  <span>Fons’s</span>
  <span> face to see the impudent glare he was given, but still laughed to himself, getting back to work. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ari?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up to see Sucaria coming from around the side of the hall. She’d been working with the rest of the women rather than helping Thusnelda today—it seemed that she and her mother were taking shifts doing so. Her arms were empty, so it wasn’t like she had any particular reason to be back there, but her face was determined. Ari quickly guessed her purpose, though. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It was only a matter of time, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought as he smiled as warmly as he could, putting down </span>
  <span>Fons’s</span>
  <span> hoof and patting him on the flank as he stepped away, hopping back over the fence to </span>
  <span>Sucaria’s</span>
  <span> side. He gestured to the split log rolled against the exterior wall of the hall for them to sit, and she joined him. She was more put together than he’d seen her in the past few days since she’d returned home. Her unexpected daylong ride to find him at the front, then service in camp dressing wounded and cooking with the other followers, plus whatever her father had her do when he’d arrived, appeared to have been slept off. “You seem to have rested up well enough since coming home,” he said with a smile, settling his elbows onto his knees as he leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and relishing the breeze. The weather was still markedly cold, most of the time—but there were glimpses of the spring that was coming. But he doubted that he would ever cease enjoying the bite of the cool air against his cheeks and nose.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’ve still been able to sleep all regular this week. You haven’t, and you’d got a bad start at it too. And you look it, sorry to say.” He shook his head with a quiet laugh. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't think I will catch up for a long while.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t particularly surprised at </span>
  <span>Sucaria’s</span>
  <span> silence, and while he would have normally decided to let her take her time in speaking, perhaps he shouldn’t give her the opportunity to back out of the conversation. It would be uncomfortable either way—but it was important. He opened his eyes and leaned forward on his elbows. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you really, Sucaria?”  As he watched her, she turned her eyes downward, picking at a </span>
  <span>thready</span>
  <span> split in the log. Of course she didn’t want to speak. But as her silence stretched, her mouth opening several times but never quite managing to get anything out, Ari held back his sigh. “Being unwell </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>an option, if that is how you feel.” Her eyes lit in an odd panic. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not—”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not lie to me. You don’t have to. I know.  It is…difficult. Death.” Ari sighed. “Well, causing death.” He heard </span>
  <span>Sucaria’s</span>
  <span> breath coming shallower, but he didn’t turn to face her as she spoke. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know I was doing it.” She shuddered, her breath hitching. “It just happened so fast. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to. I know I had to. But I didn’t want to. It’s not my place. I don’t…” She drew her knees up to her chest, dropping her head forward and hiding her face. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Ari watched a wisp of cloud through the break in the trees above them. “And I know that you’re afraid it won’t leave you. It probably won't for a while, at least. Sometimes it’s harder; sometimes you can forget. But don’t think yourself weak if you get trapped in it. We all do sometimes.” Ari sighed, glancing over to meet her eyes. “I’m sure your father does. I know I do.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re…you. And </span>
  <span>Da’s</span>
  <span> always been—” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fighting is what our people do. The gods demand blood, and both your father and I are good at it; Thusnelda too, even. But just because it’s the way of our people doesn’t mean it should be easy. It should </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>be easy. These are lives. But it is necessary, sometimes. What your father, Thusnelda, or I do in war adds up—and the way we treat life here is what makes us different than Rome. What happened with </span>
  <span>Segestes</span>
  <span> hurt you worse because that is not the type of person you are, and it doesn’t mean you have to seek it out and do it again. But you saved lives with your action. I know that it should make it easier, but it doesn’t, and it probably won’t for a while.” Ari smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, hugging her for a moment before letting her go. “But you saved my family, me included. There is nothing I will ever be able to do to repay you in full.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When Sucaria finally lifted her face, her cheeks were streaked with tears. She sniffed hard and rubbed the heel of her hand across her eyes, looking back up at Ari with bright, watery eyes. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “Why did you do it?” Ari took a deep breath, his less-scraped hand instinctively covering over the worst scabs across the top of his wrist. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish you hadn’t seen it.” Ari ran his finger across the band of Flavus’s ring, catching his nail on the inscriptions across the face. “In a way, I am glad to know how he died in the end. Even if it…” Ari shifted his gaze from his hands to the ground beneath them, focusing now on a tuft of dead grass. “Even though it was me.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he’d halfheartedly covered them, Sucaria was still looking at his wrists, crisscrossed in the thin scratches left behind as Flavus had struggled against him. He hadn’t been able to quite properly trim and shave his beard either due to a few deeper ones on his neck, but those too were still healing quickly. He hadn’t tried to hide them, but his scarf had protected from the worst of them, at least. But somehow between the untrimmed beard and deepening furrows of sleeplessness around his eyes, he looked like he’d aged. He was only ten years older than her—and that was less than the difference between her and her youngest brother, not quite even going on five yet, and she’d be sixteen in a month. Obviously, the baby had been keeping Ari up, and as he’d admitted, he'd had had little chance to catch up on sleep since returning from the battlefront only a few days before. But he just didn’t look the same. “But how could you?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari loosely clasped his hands, trying to stop fidgeting. He was doing his best to remember all he’d planned to say. “I didn’t have a choice, Sucaria.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“But you strangled him,” she said, voice shaking. “He was already dying. He was your brother.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span> “I know it doesn't help for me to say it is complicated,” Ari said quietly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You choked him to death and you didn’t even let go, not for minutes. He was dead before you realized what you’d done. You just held him there</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span> I saw it. I watched it.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Sucaria. It just happened. I don’t know how to explain it to you because I can’t explain it to myself, and I will live with his blood on my hands for the rest of my life.” He sighed, leaning forward, looking at his hands. “And my real brother died long ago. That was Flavus. Flavus was a Roman. My brother, my </span>
  <span>Cherusci</span>
  <span> brother, would have never come back. There was—” he realized that there could have been tears rising, and he didn’t fight them. “It shouldn’t have happened that way, Sucaria, I know that. I know you will never be able to </span>
  <span>unsee</span>
  <span> what I did. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>that man</span>
  </em>
  <span> killed my brother. He was the son of the man that killed my father. He was the brother of...” he smiled again, a bit sardonically, “of the man that almost killed me. Arminius—I had tried to be him so long that I became him, and if it wasn’t for Thusnelda, I’d still be him, and everyone here would be dead. </span>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> I was angry. He could have destroyed everything I loved. Flavus </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>one of the things I loved, and when he was sitting there in front of me, there was no piece of him left of the boy I survived Rome with. Only part of his face.” He shook his head. “I will have to live with it. But it is better than the alternative. And if I’d let him go, it would have wasted your sacrifice. While you’ll have to live with yours too, know that yours was worth it, no matter how bad it might get.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sucaria said nothing as she sat, knees still to her chin, arms around her legs, eyes far off as they stared unfocused towards the fence of the paddock. Ari sat in silence next to her. If she needed to say anything more, she probably would, but he didn’t want to push her. She already had enough to think about. He was almost startled when she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>speak.</span>
  <span> “Do you have nightmares from it?” Ari nodded, glancing over to meet her eyes. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes often. Every night, every time I close my eyes. Other times, not for weeks or months. But I’ve done much more killing than you ever will.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She gave a small smile at that, but looked nervous as she asked, “What do you do?” Ari shrugged.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You learn ways to survive at its worst, and it is hard to do alone, but there is always help around you in those who love you.” He smiled. “I, for one, have Thusnelda. I have your father.” She looked back at him out of the corner of her eye, almost suspicious of such a simple answer. “And I count, too. When it gets hard to breathe, I count how long each breath, in and out, lasts, and I try to force them to last longer and longer counts. It makes you relax again, no matter should you want to or not. I promise. It works almost every time—and focus on the things I can touch. What’s beneath my hands, what I can smell, the temperature. Things like that.” A small, crooked smile twitched onto his face. “Or I’ll get up and go get something to eat. That helps too.” She seemed surprised when she laughed, and he hid his own victorious chuckle beneath his hand. As a much warmer stillness grew around them, he turned to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder again, resting his chin on the top of her head as she leaned into it. “It will get better. Probably not now, likely not for a little while, but it will. I promise.” He felt her nod. They sat together for a while longer, listening to the sounds of the village behind them and the breeze through the forest beside them, until </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> gave a frustrates snort, dropping his head onto the top rung of the fence to eye Ari with no small amount of reproach for abandoning him tethered in his paddock. Ari shook his head and let Sucaria go with one final squeeze on her shoulder, standing and turning towards his horse. “We have work to do, Sucaria. If I make </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> wait any longer, I doubt he will speak to me for weeks.” Sucaria gave a small smile, standing. As she turned to walk away, though, she stopped, turning back once more to Ari. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” He smiled and waved his hand. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No need. </span>
  <span>Go. </span>
  <span>You know where to find me if you need me.” She nodded and was gone. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When Ari hopped the fence back to </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span>, the horse huffed at him again—but seemed to forgive him quickly enough once Ari slipped a carrot out of his belt pouch. ‘That was for when we were done, friend, so do not get mad at me when I leave without another.’ </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> didn’t appear to listen. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When Ari was finished with his horse and had begun to make his way back towards the village proper, he sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I should just have both of my uncomfortable conversations today, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought as his eyes fell on Thusnelda’s family house. Instead of talking himself out of it (he’d had far worse confrontations than this), he strode up to the door and nodded to the man guarding it, who unbarred the door itself. Ari walked in. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Irmina,” Ari greeted, closing the door behind himself. His mother-in-law looked back at him coolly through the dim of the shuttered house. She did not get up from her seat on the low bench across the far wall, but she set down her sewing. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  <span> Arminius,” she said as she bowed her head. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” When she turned back up to face him, there was a small smile on her lips. But her wide eyes burned as they centered on him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you tried to have me, your daughter, and your soon-to-be-born grandson killed. I merely wanted to personally discuss your failure to do so.” Irmina laughed and gestured to the clear end of the bench, farthest from her. Ari ignored it and instead pulled up a stool, sitting across from her in the center of the room. “What do you have to say for yourself?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I am certainly sorry it didn’t work,” she said, sounding genuinely a bit glum. “At least in your regard.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I can't say I am sorry to disappoint you.”  Irmina laughed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose that’s fair. I also suppose that I should congratulate your bravery at raising my daughter’s bastard. A man such as yourself cowering before his wife and following her orders? Doing it unknowingly is one thing, but to submit and defer as gladly as you have </span>
  <span>takes</span>
  <span> a different kind of man entirely. I suppose you must have learned that in Rome, didn’t you?” Ari let the comment slide off and shook his head. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We have our strengths, Irmina. I’ll play to mine, but I’ll not stand in the way of hers. She does the same for me and not only do you know it, but the tribes know it too. I will not stifle her only because she’s a woman. She’s more than man enough to rule</span>
  <span>, and our marriage is not your concern.</span>
  <span>”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Irmina's</span>
  
  <span>face was pale, even in the dark—and she looked like she had barely eaten in the past week, even though they had been sure people were bringing her food. She shifted. “When </span>
  <span>Varus</span>
  <span> sent you here to take up the post as </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  <span>, I had originally hoped that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>at the very least, would be easy enough to deal with. I was honestly pleased with Thusnelda for taking it upon herself to marry you, as frustrated as it made my husband. I thought she knew what she was doing. Having Rome at her beck and call rather than just the </span>
  <span>Chatti</span>
  <span>? Perfect. But no. My daughter failed on that front. I had to take things into my own hands again.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thusnelda isn’t the same type of person as you are, Irmina.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right,” she said. “She is weaker than I thought.” Ari took a slow breath, resting his hand on his knee and running his fingernail across the twill of his trousers, focusing on the sensation of the thread beneath. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Your understanding of ‘strength’ is concerning. If you hadn’t noticed, that is why Rome doesn’t rule you anymore, and that is why Thusnelda and I do.” Irmina smiled. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It would appear so.”  She shook her head, reaching back to her sewing.  As she took up her needle, she glanced back at Ari only once before settling back into her rhythm. “But if it wasn’t for you, the both of you would rule the tribes together. I might hate you, but I could have respected that.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Acknowledging when you have found secure victory is important. Learning exactly when not to overstep is even more so. We have everything we need and we have security for our tribe.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> I could probably be king, Irmina. But people like you would stand in our way, and this revolt was to secure our safety: not to consolidate power. I did everything for her, but that does not mean that she walks all over me—and that does not mean I won’t remind her or anyone else that all I want is safety for those whom I love.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Irmina’s</span>
  <span> hand stilled mid-stitch. When she looked back up at him, her gaze was no longer the flat friendliness or impassive mask that he’d come to know from her, but it was dark. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is what you truly look like, isn't it? </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought, meeting her eyes. “Now, Arminius, I don’t know what else you think you may get out of me. I’ve told you everything I will, and I have work to do</span>
  <span>. My burial clothes aren’t going to make themselves</span>
  <span>. Come back when you are ready to drag me to my death.” He stood slowly, watching her as he did. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well.” When he left, he very consciously did not slam the door behind him.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Quiet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter Warnings: SMUT (finally.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thusnelda was asleep propped up in their bedding when he came back into their private quarters. The baby was in the bassinet beside her and her hand was still draped just across the rim of the basket, fingers resting lightly on the flat cushion, as if she’d merely slipped into unconsciousness halfway through trying to console him. The baby, however, was soundly sleeping. He was swaddled tightly in the wool of Ari’s old plaid, his face twitching and working into small, unknowable expressions that Ari had quickly become utterly lost in. Somehow, he didn’t wake as Ari carefully shut the door—but Thusnelda gave a small start and blinked towards him, letting out a frustrated sigh as she screwed her eye shut and withdrew her hand from the cradle. Ari settled by her side on the bedding and brushed the loose hair off her shoulder, leaning in and lightly kissing the crook of her neck. She sighed again—more contented this time—and turned her head to brush her lips to his ear.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How long do you think I’ve been out?” she whispered. Her breath against him made him shiver, but he stifled it. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not long, I would think,” he replied in his own murmur. He, however, let his lips linger on her cheek, and she leaned into him as he wrapped his arms around her. “How do you feel?” It seemed she held back a laugh.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Vile.” Ari smiled. He could figure out why—she had barely been out of bed for days.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I could help you wash your hair if you would like.” He kissed her cheek. “And I can help with the rest of you too. It might make you feel better.” He drew away enough to see the exhausted elation pass over her face at the prospect. He pecked her on the cheek, getting up to draw water from their stores and boil a large potful. As he came back into their chambers with his freshly drawn bucket (not Thusnelda’s Trusted Bucket, of course, which he doubted they would ever want to use for much else ever again), he glanced at the bedding to see that Thusnelda had again fallen asleep. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When the tub had just enough to draw from but not too much to soak in (Sueva had told them Thusnelda wasn’t allowed to soak for at least another week or so), Ari pulled a stool next to it and came back to Thusnelda’s side, resting a hand on her shoulder to wake her. He helped her to her feet and guided her to stand before the tub. With well-practiced hands, he unpinned the fibula brooches at Thusnelda’s shoulders and helped guide the loose chiton down her frame into a heap on the ground beneath her. He steadied her as she stepped out of the pile of blue fabric, wrapping her loosely in a blanket as he first settled her on the stool and leaned her back against the tub to wash her hair.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda closed her eye as he took her head in his hand, pouring the water over her hair and carefully soaped it through (he was still, even after months of living back among his own people, delighted by a return to soap—which Romans didn’t use), working the lather down all the way to the roots and rubbing circles as he massaged her scalp. As he worked, he said nothing: he let her relish in their silence. It took all her willpower to stay conscious, but she did so by focusing on the sensations of his hands through her hair and the practiced ways he tilted her head to keep the water from her face. She lost herself within the sound of water as it ran back into the basin behind her. Eventually, when he had finished, he wrung out the water and knotted it on top of her head, keeping it out of the way as he helped her step over and settle herself into the hot, shallow water of the tub. He was right: the moment that she settled into it, even though it was barely enough to settle into, it felt amazing. She couldn’t help her contented sigh, and he leaned forward with a smile as he kissed her forehead. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He worked across her skin slowly, half helping her wash and half massaging the ache from her muscles and joints, head to toe. When finished, Ari poured the water over her shoulders, gently rinsing her, trailing kisses across the clean skin as he went—but instead of merely the cascade of water, Thusnelda suddenly found that there were tears streaming down her cheeks. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari stopped and dried his hands before cupping her face between them, rubbing his thumbs across her cheeks like she did for him when he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not here, </span>
  </em>
  <span>holding their foreheads together and letting her cry. He didn’t ask what was wrong. Thusnelda appreciated it. There was no specific thing, of course, and they both knew it. Her father had attempted to kidnap her and died in the process. She had sentenced her mother to hang as a sacrifice on behalf of their tribe at the end of the week. For gods’ sake, she’d just had a baby—whose father, the man that Thusnelda and Ari had sworn with in a pact of three and the man that Thusnelda had dreamed of spending her whole life with before they thought they found him dead—had just proven he was willing to kill both her and Ari, breaking their oath and destroying their tribe in the process by delivering them to Rome, enslavement, and worse. Who knew where he was hiding now? Who knew when he would reappear or what he’d do; what he was capable of? Now that it was clear he wanted his son, Folkwin might never stop. And no matter how much faith she had in Ari, Thusnelda had still lived the past few weeks in fear that he would never come back—battle was chance, no matter how skilled or prepared you could possibly be. But he’d returned safe and in one piece in time to be present for the birth of their first child—no matter whether Folkwin believed it was his right as blood-sire to raise the baby or not. In days, both she and Ari would swear before both mortals and gods alike their love and protection to their child. Folkwin could not stop it. They had survived—Ari had come through battle unscathed; Thusnelda had survived childbirth, and so far, their son was strong and healthy. Now, she was exhausted, she was overwhelmed—but they were together. They had a new oath of three. They had their family. That was what mattered. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, her tears stopped coming. Ari kissed her gently on the lips before pulling away to rinse the salt that had gathered down her cheeks from her tears, then finished rinsing the rest of her. Before she knew it he was helping her out of the tub, helping her dry and re-dress and guiding her back to the bed. He settled her against him, cradling her head close against his chest, tracing long patterns across the bare skin of her arm. “You must get back to sleep, cupita mea. You must get it while you can.” Thusnelda, exhausted, did agree—but somehow, she couldn’t stop the thoughts that kept coming. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>been terrified. There had been so much that had happened this past week, and no matter how supported and loved she had been by Sueva always at her side, her hands being the first to cradle Thusnelda’s child as Sueva guided him into the world; by Sucaria, defending her as reflex far past what the girl might have ever thought would be required of her; by Talio’s return and swearing truthfully that nothing would get past him to hurt her and her child unless it was over his still-warm corpse. But Ari—Reik Arminius of the Cherusci, still always healing from his life before, allowing Thusnelda to help and hold him as he supported her in turn, giving her the time and space to grow into herself in ways she never had—was now here beside her, breathing, warm, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>here. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She knew that if it hadn’t been for the baby, he would have gladly and joyfully fought beside her. She and Ari and Talio would have together led the Cherusci and the other tribes into war, but Ari had sacrificed his safety and the extra assurance not just of their tribe but their entire people to try to ensure her own. Laying here, their bodies fitted together, her own still subtly damp and flushed from the bath loosely wrapped within her dress, safe within his embrace, she breathed in the slight musk of his skin. He himself had bathed that morning, probably; she didn’t remember, but he did not quite smell of a full day's work. She loved the scent. She reached up to tug down the hem of his collar, exposing the ridge on his throat where the tendon met his collarbone. As she leaned upwards to kiss it, her lips parted, and she traced the tip of her tongue across the bare skin. His breath hitched and his hand clutched at her shoulder with trembling fingers—but he did not move. Against her stomach, however, she felt the sudden twitch of hardness growing between his legs.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand now wandered downward, fingers tracing the weave of his shirt down to its hem. He stiffened further as he realized what she was doing. She looked up at him: his pale blue eyes were dark with sudden hunger, but they were tight. He reached down to let his fingers graze across her bare wrist as her hand passed over him, not quite stilling her as she continued downwards.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot reciprocate,” he said almost weakly as her fingertips now grazed the smooth skin of his stomach, tracing the thin trail of hair that began beneath his navel. “Sueva said—” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hush.” Thusnelda leaned upwards and her lips met his. He returned the kiss, and she could tell that he was desperate for it to be deeper—but he held back. “I don’t want anything from you. This is for you, and for everything you’ve done. You deserve this.” She started to loosen his trousers. He gasped as she worked them away, relieving the pressure against his growing hardness. Slowly she leaned up, her lips meeting his again, giving him the deepening kiss that made him tremble against her. She pulled away to meet his gaze. “And I want to give this to you because I love you, Ari.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” Ari said, no hint of reproach in his voice—only seeking assurance. Thusnelda smiled, leaning in and trailing kisses across his cheek, neck, and collarbone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ari.” Thusnelda withdrew her hand from his waist, instead reaching up beneath his tunic to trace the lines of Ari’s thickest knot of still-young scar, the remnants of last year’s axe wound. “You came back. That’s all I wanted. I was—” Thusnelda closed her eye, burying her face back in his chest to collect herself for a moment before she turned back up to meet his gaze. “I wasn’t there at your side to defend you, Ari. We had to do it this way—for the baby. But If I’d lost you...” He reached up to her, fingers threading through her hair. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We would meet again in the belly of the wolf,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he said quietly. Thusnelda blinked. It is what she had told him in their silence after they had lain together the first time—the night before he’d left for Varus as they had not quite said goodbye, for fear of what that might mean. She smiled and pressed her lips against his, hand finally working the waist of his trousers free, and her mouth swallowing the weak moan that escaped him as she took his length fully into her hand. He shuddered, his fist in her hair falling back down limply, dragging down to clutch at her side. Thusnelda ended their kiss with a nip on his lower lip and instead leaned into his shoulder, breathing in and tasting the sensitive skin on the arc of his throat. “Thus—Thusnelda,” he gasped, voice tight. “Nelda, I have nothing for—”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What did I say about questioning me in these matters, Domine?” Thusnelda said now into the crook of his shoulder, teeth grazing the sensitive skin over the taught tendons. He shuddered again, letting out what could have almost been a whimper. “You should know better by now.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me,” he gasped. “I—Oh—” his voice broke as she tightened her grip around his cock once again, stroking slower. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You what, Ari?” He clutched back down at her arm, his nails digging into the flesh.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I—re—requiro—” Thusnelda kissed his throat once again. She knew he must have felt her smile against his skin.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>need? Now I know what</span>
  <em>
    <span> I </span>
  </em>
  <span>need from you, Ari,” she purred, tugging the collar of his shirt low enough that she could reach the bare plane of skin across his chest. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything,” he breathed, “I will give you anything you need of me.” His words were almost halting as he spoke—as if he was consciously trying to remember them in his own language. When she turned her face back to meet his eyes, she was struck by the way he looked back to her. It was everything she herself had felt—the fear of loss, the ecstasy of returning to each other's sides, the anguish and the shame that she knew Ari felt at not being able to keep her safe, and the knowledge she forgave him. That there was no apology needed—and nothing to forgive. That here in her arms and with her in his, no matter how complete they were alone, they were greater together.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you, Ari, to let yourself have this.” She kissed the flushing skin beneath her lips. “And I want you to say it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Nelda,” he whispered, shivering as she traced the vein on the underside of his shaft. “</span>
  <span>Te</span>
  
  <span>amo</span>
  <span>; </span>
  <span>cupita</span>
  
  <span>mea</span>
  <span>, I need you—I need you to touch me. </span>
  <span>Requiro</span>
  
  <span>te</span>
  <span> potiri.</span>
  <span> Please.” He reached to her cheek, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw. “I love you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda met his gaze once more. He didn’t often say </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you </span>
  </em>
  <span>in Germanic—he had told her once that he though and felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>te amo </span>
  </em>
  <span>first, before he could even think the words in their own language: he still admitted that he still thought and dreamed mostly in Latin (unless it was tribal matters; those ended up mostly Germanic by default, he’d said with amusement), but that his dreams of most intensity were in Latin only. The words </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you </span>
  </em>
  <span>were often difficult to remember. It was unlike him—but that he was so wholly focused on her and trying to tell her in any way he knew how was enough. It stirred her deeply—but she found no physical hunger running through her like he did (and doubted that she would for a long while): only the desire to pull him over the edge. The sudden flush in his cheeks crept to his ears and the way she saw his pulse quicken in his throat drew her on.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>She withdrew her hand to reach up and run her fingers through his close-cropped hair. Thusnelda had been so terrified she would never see his face again, and here, so close to undone and adoring beside her, his eyes pleaded for any words she would give him. His eyes gleamed as he reached to her and cupped her cheek. She turned to kiss his palm. “Te amo, Ari.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They leaned into each other and their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss before Thusnelda broke away and again trailed her lips down his chin and neck, down to the bare skin exposed beneath the line of his collar. Thusnelda bit down, sucking on a small patch of the skin, leaving a line of marks that would lie just out of view when he was dressed. He writhed against her with each new nip—he didn’t seem to notice when she pulled her hand away from his chest, but he choked on a strangled gasp as she took him in her hand once again, now stroking him with purpose. She began slowly, lightly; relishing in the taste of his skin and each shiver against her as her hand worked him quicker and lighter. She knew he was biting his tongue. But as she pulled him closer and closer to the edge, his breath came shallower. One fist was now balled tight within their bedding and the other guided her pace. Suddenly his fist was in her hair and his nails dug into her wrist, unable and unwilling to stop her from touching him as she pleased, crushing their lips together, but he couldn’t focus on their kiss, his shoulders, hands, and chest going rigid as his hips bucked against her hand and she tipped him to his back, and when he came, whatever mewl came from him, be it a curse, her name, or a blessing, was further muffled beneath her lips—and she doubted that it would have been coherent even if his voice was free. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Even months into their true marriage, after the politics of their union had been forgotten and their true kinship and honest love had grown, she was amazed at their balance—regardless of their even footing (and indeed, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly </span>
  </em>
  <span>seldom-used assertion of rank as her reik and husband) in matters of ruling their tribe, he still worshiped her here, both beneath and above her. The sight of such a man beside her, his eyes glassed over in the ebbing waves of passion as she slowed her last strokes, his body still rippling in the last throes of ecstasy, oversensitive at her touch and trembling against her, filled her wholly. He was utterly undone, utterly bare, utterly open and alive—for her. This Ari, his blue-eyes hazy and still dark with satisfied desire, flush-lipped and pink-cheeked, tousled hair, freshly marked by her across his heaving chest, was no king; no reik, no hero of Germania, no Arminius, Prefect of Rome—he was hers, and he gladly gave himself to all she needed. It was all </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>needed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth to speak as Thusnelda finally drew her hand away, reaching for a clean rag at the edge of the bedding to clean up his bared stomach (one of them had somehow pulled his shirt out of the way of the mess before it happened) but he could not seem to find the words to speak. Instead, he only reached for her, cupping her cheek in his hand and tracing her scar with his thumb. She smiled, and she knew. She took his hand in hers and kissed his fingers, settling back against him. This time, it was Thusnelda who spoke.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“To sleep with you, Ari. We must get it while we can.” He almost laughed as she echoed his words from before but did not seem to quite find the strength. Instead, he propped himself up onto his elbow, peering into the bassinet with amazement. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s asleep still,” he mumbled as he dropped back down, enveloping Thusnelda into his arms. He kissed her hair, and it was only moments later that she felt his breath deepen, slow, and even out—already having slipped into sleep. Thusnelda followed shortly after, breathing in the musk of his scent, his own breath ruffling through her hair. She was happy.</span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**Latin Translations**<br/>“Te amo; cupita mea, I need you—I need you to touch me. Requiro te potiri. Please.”: "I love you, my beloved, I need you—I need you to touch me. I need you. Please."</p><p>Latin translations are, as always, courtesy Eastern_Lights, to whom I am forever thankful!</p><p>So, probably a bit silly to put two chapters up in a day, but here you go. I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Sacrifice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger Warning: archaeologically inspired human sacrifice.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A few</span>
  <span> days </span>
  <span>later, the</span>
  <span> day before</span>
  <span> the equinox, </span>
  <span>Thusnelda sat on her throne</span>
  <span> in the hall</span>
  <span> as she nursed the baby</span>
  <span>—who, tomorrow, would be named Arnulf.</span>
  <span> While </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> hadn’t been up and about much that day, she’d been incredibly busy delegating and preparing the upcoming feast and planting, with Sueva doing any running around necessary on her behalf. Now, </span>
  <span>they were</span>
  <span> eating</span>
  
  <span>a</span>
  <span> midday meal</span>
  <span>:</span>
  
  <span>Sueva </span>
  <span>helping </span>
  <span>offer</span>
  <span> Thusnelda food</span>
  
  <span>as </span>
  <span>the new mother </span>
  <span>only had one free hand. Thusnelda again marveled at the older woman. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What in the names of all the gods and spirits would I do without you? </span>
  </em>
  <span>s</span>
  <span>he thought to herself</span>
  <span>. In between all the practical nonsense </span>
  <span>of governing the tribe</span>
  <span> on the holiday, </span>
  <span>Thusnelda knew that Sueva was doing her best to </span>
  <span>keep her from thinking too hard about what would happen that evening. </span>
  <span>That morning Ari went </span>
  <span>with Runa to speak wi</span>
  <span>th </span>
  <span>his mother-in-law</span>
  <span>, who </span>
  <span>was preparing</span>
  <span> herself, </span>
  <span>too</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
  <span>H</span>
  <span>er funerary clothes were sewn and she was appropriately adorned</span>
  <span>;</span>
  
  <span>apparently</span>
  <span> she’d even taken the liberty of braiding her own rope, which </span>
  <span>pleased</span>
  <span> Runa immensely</span>
  <span>—as soon as she’d checked for weak spots </span>
  <span>to be sure it wouldn’t break</span>
  
  <span>(</span>
  <span>t</span>
  <span>he gods loved a spectacle</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> not an embarrassment). </span>
  <span>But everything appeared to be in order. Now, Sueva was distracting Thusnelda with talk of the baby.</span>
  <span> Swallowing her bite</span>
  <span>, Thusnelda </span>
  <span>replied</span>
  <span> to </span>
  <span>Sueva’s</span>
  <span> earlier comment</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“The other </span>
  <span>reiks</span>
  <span> will come to meet him later, after their own plantings and burials have taken place</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span> Maybe a moon or two.</span>
  <span>” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sueva chuckled. “That’ll do.</span>
  <span> ‘Sides, he’s not going to be too exciting for the time being anyways</span>
  <span>. At least he’s as handsome a babe as you are beautiful.” T</span>
  <span>hough the comment was one of comfort, T</span>
  <span>husnelda couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt</span>
  <span>—and of grief. </span>
  <span>She was surprised at how damn emotional she had been since the baby was born—though, she supposed she shouldn’t have been. She knew that was the way of things.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope he stays that way.” The older he got, who knew what he would look like</span>
  <span>?</span>
  <span> Sure</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> he might have almost looked like her now, but for how long? Everyone knew. As much as Ari plainly didn’t care, </span>
  <span>Thusnelda </span>
  <span>knew that there </span>
  <span>might</span>
  <span> come a day when he would look at the boy he’d raised as his own and see the face of the man who’d sworn to kill him—and tried to steal Thusnelda—staring back.</span>
  <span> Thusnelda wondered what she herself would think when she saw it, too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sueva took another bite, narrowing her eyes at Thusnelda’s sudden silence.</span>
  <span> She let it hang for a while, Thusnelda’</span>
  <span>s pleasant mood </span>
  <span>ebbing</span>
  <span> away</span>
  <span>, before speaking again. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What colors did you say his </span>
  <span>da’s</span>
  
  <span>ma's</span>
  <span> and</span>
  
  <span>da's</span>
  
  <span>da’s</span>
  <span> hair were?” Thusnelda was a bit taken aback</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span> Sueva had never asked it, and she had never thought about it. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Dark. His...” she sighed, trying to collect herself at the thought</span>
  <span>—and trying to remember them in any other way than watching their screaming, slow, sputtering </span>
  <span>breaths as they hung from their crosses in their otherwise silent village</span>
  <span>—the Romans laughing to each other as they </span>
  <span>talked</span>
  <span> and joked</span>
  <span>, going about their work</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> paying no mind </span>
  <span>to their victims </span>
  <span>until they </span>
  <span>finally rode </span>
  <span>away.</span>
  
  <span>Folkwin’s father went first, followed by his brother</span>
  <span>—but his </span>
  <span>mother, blind</span>
  <span> with pain and hoarse with screaming</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> unaware of herself or even her dead family beside her, </span>
  <span>eked</span>
  <span> out hours more of horrible, shallow breaths as she braced against her </span>
  <span>nailed ankles until the bones finally crunched beyond any ability for movement. She suffocated quickly after.</span>
  <span> Thusnelda and </span>
  <span>Segimer</span>
  <span> were among the few that kneeled before them </span>
  <span>as they died, </span>
  <span>watching their faces still and</span>
  <span> their h</span>
  <span>air and clothing catching gently in the breeze</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span> There was</span>
  <span> so little</span>
  <span> smell of death</span>
  <span>, blowing high above them from the trees as it was.</span>
  
  <span>Finally, Thusnelda shuddered, and was able to force the</span>
  <span> memories away. </span>
  <span>“His father’s mother had black hair, and father’s father had brown. </span>
  <span>Little One’s father had light hair, t</span>
  <span>hough</span>
  <span>. Nearly the same color as mine.”</span>
  <span> Sueva nodded slowly. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>But</span>
  <span> his uncle, the boy?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you asking, Sueva?” Thusnelda said, her voice edged. Sueva didn’t seem to care about the emotion behind it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What color was it?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It was brown, Sueva. Dark brown. Now why are you asking?” Sueva had a glint in her eyes when she looked back down to her food, peeling her apple with a shrug. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, a babe born blonde with brown and black in the family doesn’t tend to stay blonde, given a few months. Maybe a year or so.</span>
  <span> Often as not ends up </span>
  <span>dark</span>
  <span> headed.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t something that had ever occurred to Thusnelda, and probably not Ari either. Likely because he had the same dark hair as his mother and father, and because she was bronze-haired to her parents’ red-toned. But that was true—when Ansgar was born, it had been with a fuzz of golden blonde hair on his crown—and truly thinking on it, Ari’s </span>
  <span>hair had been much </span>
  <span>more</span>
  <span> brown </span>
  <span>than black </span>
  <span>when he was a child. </span>
  <span>What if she was right? Who knew if </span>
  <span>he</span>
  <span> would keep his bright </span>
  <span>hair.</span>
  <span> But if it did end up darkening…</span>
  <span>Thusnelda looked down at the baby.</span>
  <span> While Thusnelda had never seen her reflection growing up, she had become accustomed to it </span>
  <span>now that</span>
  <span> she’d taken to borrowing Ari’s mirror: she now knew that </span>
  <span>she and Ari</span>
  <span> at least had similar shapes on the bow of their lips; from some angles, the same slant of jaw. Their cheeks had the same height. But </span>
  <span>Ari’s</span>
  <span> eyes were softer than hers, like the ones she remembered from </span>
  <span>Segimer’s</span>
  <span>—soft and sad. But Folkwin’s father had the same gentle set to them; Thusnelda had always taken comfort in his smiles. Perhaps Arnulf—well, the babe soon to be Arnulf—would be lucky enough to inherit his </span>
  <span>grand</span>
  <span>father’s gentle features, skipping Folkwin’s entirely. Maybe, with hopefully dark </span>
  <span>hair</span>
  <span>, his grandfather’s gentle eyes, a smooth jaw, and the even temperament that both she and Ari </span>
  <span>would do their best to</span>
  <span> instill in him, they could more easily move past the memory of his sire and all </span>
  <span>that he had wrought. </span>
  
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sueva decided that there had been enough silence and began speaking to her about any last preparations for the naming the next day. When she was satisfied with all answers, she gave a heavy sigh and looked back at Thusnelda for a long while. “I don’t think there will be, but I will still ask: is there anything that I can do to make tonight easier for you?” Almost as if on cue, the baby began to wail, and Thusnelda carefully lifted him to burp him and help settle his stomach after eating. She didn’t answer outright—but she was sure that Sueva saw the sudden gloss of tears in her eye. Sueva nodded and stood, face gentle but set. “I’ll go and check for our menfolk. I can send </span>
  <span>Genovefa</span>
  <span> back here to give you a hand with the baby too, if you like.” Thusnelda shook her head. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, thank you. We will be fine.” Sueva nodded, a small smile on her lips as she reached out, squeezing Thusnelda’s hand before turning to go. Thusnelda watched her leave.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda jolted awake when she suddenly felt movement next to her, her eye blinking to find focus on Ari settling at the edge of their bedding. He smiled and took her hand, kissing it as he leaned over to peer into the bassinette at their sleeping child. “I let you sleep for a while before now,” he said quietly, still gazing down at the baby. “I thought he might need it. He’s never ridden before.” Thusnelda rubbed the heel of her hand over her scar and yawned. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not doing the riding, Ari. He’ll be fine.” She propped herself back up. “But he should still probably ride with </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span>. I trust </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>horse, but any creature that can keep </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>upright with the sort of sleeper you are is worth his weight in gold, and worth trusting with the baby.” He laughed silently as he stood, going to wash his face from his day’s work. When he turned back to face her as he dried his beard, however, he was much more somber. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve taken the liberty of </span>
  <span>bringing</span>
  <span> the horses </span>
  <span>in, though</span>
  <span> I </span>
  <span>have yet to saddle</span>
  <span> them</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span> But it’s getting late. We’ve got to get dressed. It’s almost time for us to go.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda looked back at him for a long time, suddenly feeling cold—but she gave a short nod, reaching for his hand. When she spoke, her voice was even. </span>
  <span>“I must speak with her one last time, Ari. Before this is over. I just want to know what she has to say for herself.” </span>
  <span>She looked down at the baby, still soundly sleeping in his bassinette. Ari followed her gaze and reached down to lift him up, cradling him between the two of them as the baby stirred, his tiny face scrunching up and his mouth opening in a yawn, eyes screwed up with displeasure at being moved. Thusnelda smiled and rested her forehead on Ari’s. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Should someone go with you?” Thusnelda shook her head. Ari leaned up and kissed her, softly and carefully. “I’ll come when we are ready to depart, then.” Thusnelda nodded and traced her fingers across the baby’s cheek, but as he began to cry, Ari pulled him closer and hushed him, murmuring words of comfort. Thusnelda smiled as she watched his attention so suddenly hone in on the tiny person in his arms alone, seemingly forgetting her entirely as he sat back to comfort his son. She couldn’t bring herself to feel put out at his sudden shift of attention clearly far away from her. It made it easier, seeing him so—her husband, her friend, alive; their child, loved and alive himself. She herself lived. They were together. The sacrifice of her mother would not keep them safe forever, but it would be a start.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that there was no fire in the hearth of her former home, and it seemed colder than ever within the walls. "Hello, Mother,” Thusnelda said quietly, eyeing the woman standing before her in the darkness. Irmina was silent for some time as she looked back.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What have you come for?” Thusnelda stared back. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure, to be honest,” she said quietly. She felt strange seeing her—and for some reason, Thusnelda didn’t feel young looking back, but her mother looked old. Finally, she couldn’t help but break the silence. “I just wanted to hear you apologize, I think.” Irmina shook her head.  </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You will get no such pleasure out of me,” Irmina said with a smile, her wide eyes gleaming in the darkness. “I am not sorry for a single thing I’ve done, because I’ve done nothing wrong. I didn’t try to kidnap you. I didn’t hurt Ansgar. I didn’t hurt your bastard, and I didn’t kill your precious Ari. </span>
  <span>Of course</span>
  <span> I made suggestions. But I did nothing. My soul is clear.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda took a slow breath, counting it as she released it. “All the better to send to the gods, then. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>love innocence.” Irmina laughed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll spit you out when it comes time, then</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>daughter.</span>
  <span>” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Silence stretched between them again until Thusnelda sighed, taking a seat on the old stool by the door. “Your dress turned out nice,” she said plainly. “And Runa appears to love your rope.” Irmina almost snorted. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll not have the indignity of something random. I spun it myself, I braided it myself; </span>
  <span>of course</span>
  <span> it’s lovely. I'll have my last appearance before my tribe in it, it might as well be pretty. Once that’s over, that will be that.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, the gods—” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The gods?” Irmina spat. Thusnelda blinked, gasping. “After all of this, you still believe that there are gods past the works of our own hands?” Thusnelda held back the look of horror she was sure crossed her face now—there was no use in it. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ve heard enough, Mother,” Thusnelda said quietly. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Irmina spat. “You can burn. You are spineless, and you are a disappointment. My blood is on your hands, and so is the blood of all the others you have killed in your foolish rebellion.” Thusnelda clenched her jaw, her eye suddenly sharp. She couldn’t think of anything to say, but didn’t have to respond—the door opened and Ari stepped through. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s time, Irmina.” For a long moment, Irmina looked between the two of them. Finally, her mother stared back at her. Irmina’s gaze was many things at once—grieving, vindicated, and angry—but mostly just disappointed. Looking at her now, Thusnelda realized that they looked nothing alike at all: at least there would be no glimmer of her mother in her own face, and likely not in her child’s. Still silent, Irmina stood.  She smiled and shook her head chidingly and straightened her belt, eyes flicking to Ari’s. Then—like a switch—Irmina's composure was gone. For a moment, both Ari and Thusnelda couldn’t help the bewilderment that crossed over their faces at her sudden sinking to her knees, suddenly wailing, willing tears to her eyes and begging for forgiveness from the both of them—loud enough that they all knew she’d be heard from outside. In Thusnelda’s case, her surprise was swallowed quickly by pain and frustration—Ari’s suddenly by anger. He stepped forward and took Thusnelda’s hand, leading her outside, and nodded to the two of their warriors awaiting the orders to take Irmina from the building. Thusnelda did her best not to focus on the assembled tribe, all eyes on them coming out of the doorway. As the warriors stepped in behind them and Irmina’s screams intensified, Thusnelda tightened her grip on Ari’s hand—letting him guide her back to their own hall to their horses, her gaze firmly forward, locking onto </span>
  <span>Sueva’s as she stood before them</span>
  <span>. Gathered at the sides of Fons and Thusnelda’s gelding were Runa, Ansgar, and Talio’s family, Sucaria holding the reins of the horses and Genovefa the baby. Thusnelda mounted—Ansgar tugged on her skirt and rose his hands with a smile and Talio picked him up, settling him into the saddle in front of her as Ansgar giggled and grabbed a </span>
  <span>fistfull</span>
  <span> of her cloak and of the horse’s mane. She looked over to Ari who was now mounted with the baby carefully cradled to his chest, nestled carefully within the wrap </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> had taught them, and he gave her a small smile, urging Fons forward. She followed. As they rode out of the village, Irmina now being nearly drug behind them by her guards, the tribe followed, and Thusnelda felt cold.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They stood at the edge of the bog and watched as Irmina was brought forward, </span>
  <span>face</span>
  
  <span>streaked</span>
  <span> with tears. “Please, Daughter, you don’t have to do this,” she begged, voice cracking. Thusnelda said nothing, but when Ari reached to her to take Arnulf from her arm</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>she gave him to his father in silence, not letting go of </span>
  <span>Ansgar’s</span>
  <span> hand. Thusnelda and Ansgar stepped forward and the men that had led Irmina pushed her to her knees before them. Thusnelda looked up and around at her tribe, then down to the red, anguished face of her mother.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Irmina,” Thusnelda said, raising her voice for all the assembled to hear. “You are today a gift to the gods and the Women of the Woods. Our tribe is gathered to see that this sacred rite is carried out with honor; to see and be sure that the gods will look upon our sacrifice and be pleased. You are to be hung until death. Your body will be sunk into the bog to join that of our </span>
  <span>reik</span>
  
  <span>Segimer</span>
  <span> and all the others who have sacrificed themselves before. Through this act of selflessness, you will prove to the gods that you have not abandoned them—that you will gladly join them and move between them and our world. For that, we thank you.” Thusnelda turned back to Arminius for a moment, the slightest smile on his face for reassurance. She then turned to Runa, who nodded. Runa unwound the rope that had been around her arm and began to knot it. Ansgar laughed as she did and pulled his hand away from his sister’s, taking a few faltering steps towards his mother. He looked at her for some time in silence before turning to Thusnelda with a smile, trying to stretch his head back straight. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother will get wet.” Irmina choked on a sob behind him. He jerked his head back to her, eyes rolling over her. “Mother will find father and they will be in the dark. Mother will not be eaten!” He dissolved into laughter and Thusnelda took a hold of his shoulders, pulling her back against him as Runa made her way to the hanging tree—Irmina being drug behind her, screaming and wailing, by the two tribesmen as the rest of the assembled looked on in silence. Thusnelda took a shaky breath and thumped her chest with her fist. Slowly, the rhythm was taken up by all the tribe around her: some beating their chests, some drumming. Even Ari, with his hands full with the baby, stomped his heel to join them. Ari stepped up to Thusnelda until their shoulders met—she was glad for the contact, as she had not let go of Ansgar, who was bouncing on his heels and chanting “Mother will not be eaten! Mother will not be eaten!” out of sync with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump, thump, thump </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the tribe, drowning out </span>
  <span>Irmina’s</span>
  <span> screams as Runa strung the noose around her neck, beginning the necessary chant to call the spirits to witness the sacrifice. Thusnelda did not look away as the rope went taut, pulled by the hands of the two men that had held Irmina steady—and her mother did not break her gaze as she choked and sputtered, swaying in the still air. Thusnelda watched. Moments or minutes passed, and </span>
  <span>Irmina’s</span>
  <span> eyes went glassy—fluttering closed as her body twitched—and then went still. She was held suspended as Runa continued the chant. When Runa spoke the last words, arms outstretched and face turned up to the sky, the tribe stopped drumming. Runa gestured to the men at the rope, who began to carefully lower her back down, and two of her acolytes gently settled </span>
  <span>Irmina’s</span>
  <span> body onto its back, coiling the rest of the rope and laying it across her chest. The two men then lifted her body, carrying it into the water as the girls brought them stones and sticks, and as Irmina was settled beneath the water, the girls diving down to array the weights across her and keep her body at the bed, Thusnelda felt cold. Ansgar turned his face back up to her with a smile.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Nelda, mother isn’t eaten today.” Thusnelda forced a smile on her face. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother will never be eaten, then. Not even when the wolf comes?” Ansgar stifled a laugh, and covered his mouth, leaning up to whisper. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The wolf won’t find her like the wolf will find you.” Thusnelda’s smile faltered. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The wolf comes for all of us, Ansgar. We don’t need to fear him.” He shrugged his shoulder up, turning into her and burying his face in her dress. Thusnelda wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him against her. She almost jumped when he spoke again, and a pang went through her heart at the small, scared voice he spoke in—clearer than almost any she had heard since he had been </span>
  <span>hurt.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The wolf </span>
  <span>won’t</span>
  <span> come for me.” </span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For those few of you who might be keeping up with this, I know it's been a minute since I've updated—in my defense, school. There are still another 15k words completed (more or less) and still some holes to fill in, but I promise: the end exists. I'm trying not to leave anything on cliffhangers when I have to walk away from this, so even if the story isn't complete, at least it won't be left at a horrible, unsatisfying part. </p><p>Again, I promise: there is much more. It might take a month or two for things to get up here. But I do also know that Barbarians isn't exactly the hottest thing on the grill right now, so who knows if this warning matters at the moment. But thanks for bearing with me!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The First</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter Warnings: SMUT</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In the gathering dark of night, they rode back to the village in silence. Thusnelda was glad for it. Ari had again carried Arnulf the whole way. Ansgar had yet to let go of Thusnelda’s hand, still riding sat before her in her saddle—but when they returned to the outskirts of the village, Runa had finally called to her charge and Ansgar had left them, waving enthusiastically before disappearing into the woods. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari and Thusnelda made their way back to their private chambers in the back of the hall, and while Thusnelda sat down to nurse Arnulf, Arminius</span>
  
  <span>quietly untacking their horses before he returned and </span>
  <span>stoked the fire back up their hearth. When it was sufficiently healthy, Ari came to Thusnelda’s side, settling down before her and taking off her shoes. He pulled her foot into his lap and began to massage her ankle, leaning down to place a kiss on her knee. “Once he’s done, I</span>
  <span> will</span>
  
  <span>stay with</span>
  <span> him if you </span>
  <span>need</span>
  <span> time to yourself</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  <span> Thusnelda shook her head, </span>
  <span>forcing a </span>
  <span>small smile </span>
  <span>to </span>
  <span>her face. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No. </span>
  <span>I</span>
  <span> need</span>
  <span> to be with</span>
  <span> you.”</span>
  
  <span>Ari </span>
  <span>looked over her face, </span>
  <span>nodding</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They sat in silence together as </span>
  <span>Ari worked the tension </span>
  <span>out of her calves, eventually getting up and </span>
  <span>sitting behind her, holding him against her as he </span>
  <span>kneaded her shoulders. </span>
  <span>She leaned back into </span>
  <span>his chest, </span>
  <span>trying to forget herself </span>
  <span>in</span>
  <span> the</span>
  <span> weight of the t</span>
  <span>i</span>
  <span>ny bundle </span>
  <span>she held</span>
  <span> and the </span>
  <span>warmth of </span>
  <span>Ari’s</span>
  
  <span>embrace </span>
  <span>as he </span>
  <span>held</span>
  
  <span>her</span>
  <span>, running</span>
  <span> his fingers through her hair.</span>
  
  <span>She didn’t notice that Arnulf was finished until Ari scooted himself away to lift him from her arms. She watched him as he moved about the room, rocking </span>
  <span>the baby </span>
  <span>against his chest as he grew fussier, and was almost startled when she heard Ari softly humming a tune she didn’t recognize—and she was even more amazed at how quickly Arnulf began to settle down. Ari seemed to be </span>
  <span>pleased </span>
  <span>as well. When the baby was finally silent and he’d been settled in his bassinet, Ari’s cockeyed smile had the smallest hint of smugness to it before it was gone. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you ever sing?” He stood back up, a puzzled look on his face as he thought.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I </span>
  <span>don’t.”</span>
  <span> Ari </span>
  <span>laid down and </span>
  <span>settled back into the bedding</span>
  <span>,</span>
  
  <span>tugging</span>
  <span> Thusnelda back against him. She did not pull away</span>
  <span> and did not ask him why, even if she wanted to know. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I forgot to thank you,” she said absentmindedly as she ran her finger along the seams of his collar. “Counting</span>
  <span> for breathing</span>
  <span>. It is helpful.” He laughed quietly, kissing her hair. “And the furs. I hadn’t tried it before all this happened.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>I’m </span>
  <span>glad to be of use.” She couldn’t think of anything in response. When her hands stilled, Ari pulled away just far enough to search her face. He was clearly displeased with what he saw. He sighed, lifting his hand and turning her chin up to better meet his gaze. “Thusnelda. It is acceptable for you to feel unwell.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how I feel.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “That is acceptable as well.” They continued to lay in silence, only broken by the occasional pop from the fire</span>
  <span>, and Thusnelda let her mind wander. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She was an orphan now. What a strange thought—everyone lost their parents, often while young. But to lose her father as he attempted to kidnap her and steal her child at the behest of her mother, and then barely a week later to hang and drown her mother as a sacrifice for the tribe? This was a bit different than someone catching fever or getting killed in battle. Ari, she supposed, was an orphan twice over. His mother had been a kind woman, and everyone knew that was where he got most of his temperament—but he’d never had the chance to say goodbye. His father Segimer, too. Segimer sacrificed himself, not just committed suicide: if it hadn’t been for that act, Ari never would have come back. He never would have saved their people. Ari had lost Varus, and as much as Thusnelda hated the man, she knew Ari was still raised by him and might never truly know what to think about his death. But Thusnelda? Her parents were a different sort of complicated. Her mother had been controlling it her whole life, and she had no idea. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It looks</span>
  </em>
  
  <em>
    <span>like I placed my curse rightly, though, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought, remembering her mother trying to send Ansgar to his death—death not directly dealt by herself, of course. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mother had to keep her hands clean. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She had quietly done as she’d pleased, nudging the tribe itself towards Rome likely for decades. </span>
  <span>Segestes</span>
  <span> had done horrible things in the hopes and name of Rome, but Irmina had been the one who probably molded him that way. Thusnelda knew that Segestes had truly loved both her and Ansgar regardless: he’d done what he’d done to attempt to steal her away in hopes of keeping her safe. Irmina hadn’t even been willing to touch Ansgar after he’d been wounded. Her father would sit with him, hold him, help him eat; stay with him. Her father let her go rescue Ansgar from her mother when Irmina tried to kill him. Irmina was not the same sort of soul. Perhaps she did love them, at least in part, but her focus had always been on her children’s most useful aspects: the moment that Ansgar was rendered useless, he was unnecessary; the moment Thusnelda grew a backbone, she had to be broken and remolded in her mother’s preferred image. When that clearly became impossible, she had to be removed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Nelda</span>
  <span>.” Ari's </span>
  <span>soft v</span>
  <span>oice </span>
  <span>cut through her thoughts</span>
  <span> and she </span>
  <span>realized that her breath was coming shallower.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari kissed her forehead. He shifted, sitting up in the bedding. “Come,” he said, reaching down to help pull her to sit before him. When she did so, he slowly began to comb his fingers through her hair, sectioning it out. </span>
  <span>Thusnelda closed her eye and let her shoulders sag, relishing in the light touch across her scalp as Ari began to work through reordering her loose crown into whatever pattern he had planned. She knew better than to ask what he was doing, because she also took some satisfaction in the fact that she had seen a few similar braids pop up on the heads of other </span>
  <span>reiks</span>
  <span>’ </span>
  <span>wives after they’d crossed paths. She had assumed that they were Roman—but what the tribes didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them</span>
  <span>, and the monsters that they were, </span>
  <span>at least </span>
  <span>the ladies of the empire</span>
  <span> seemed to have nice hair.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The first time Ari had done it, she had been surprised—it was not long after the battle and her pregnancy hit her with full force. At first, she didn’t realize what he was doing: she felt so wretched leaning over her trusted bucket, face both drawn from retching and red from miserable, sloppy tears. But as small sections of her hair were lifted from her face and shoulders, bound up tightly against the back of her head and down her back, her head cleared a bit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you...braiding my hair?</span>
  </em>
  <span> she had asked blearily.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he’d matter-of-factly replied</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>When he tied off the plait she turned back to face him as far as she could without unsettling the small amount of peace she’d gained in her stomach. She reached back to her head and felt a smooth, ordered surface and the near-perfect plait where sweat-soaked tangles had been minutes before. Ari, for his part, appeared only a bit satisfied with himself, but his gaze was mostly just warm and attentive. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where did you learn to do that? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He shrugged. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve braided whips, and I have horses. I assumed that it would work the same. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’d nodded—that did make sense, of course, and she’d spent a few moments staring back before asking, ...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Whips? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He had merely smiled and shrugged again, kissing her on the cheek before leaning down to pick up a cup of water he had ready and waiting. But his tenderness in the act was not lost on her, and he kept it up any time she asked or any time he thought she seemed run down. She couldn’t complain. He was always watching her for little things like that. Maybe it was his own experience </span>
  <em>
    <span>here </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not here, </span>
  </em>
  <span>sometimes not knowing exactly what might set it off and disconnect him. He always knew she needed him before she did.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The day after their wedding when they had thought Folkwin had died, they arrived back home that evening and she was startled out of the fog that had pulled her through the day when Ari took her hand, gently pulling her to sit beside him in their bedding. At first, she had tried to fight him away, trying to wrench a hand free of his grasp to slap him as she screamed something—she wasn’t entirely sure what. Whatever she screamed into his face, it appeared to roll off as he kept her gaze with his own gentle, grief struck eyes and merciful silence. She became even more incensed at his composure and again rose her other hand—Ari caught her wrist as she did so and she was reminded suddenly of just how much stronger he was than her, and he easily forced her arms back down, dragging her to sit—barely budging as she tried to pull back. He pulled her close, wrapping her up in his arms and holding her in place, pinning her as she struggled against him—and her angry shrieks and threats for him to let her go suddenly began to catch in her throat as she found herself devolving into wild sobs. As she stopped trying to pull away, her body suddenly weak, weighed down by the loss, she instead found herself clinging desperately to his shirt. His arms grew </span>
  <span>soft</span>
  <span> and he cradled her head and body against his chest, gently taking off her hairnet and running his fingers through her hair, not uttering a single word as he rocked her against him. He grounded her in place. Dimly, she realized that there was a wetness from his own tears streaming down his cheeks—but for her part, she wept deeply and wordlessly until her voice was gone and she could barely see, gasping in ragged </span>
  <span>lungfulls</span>
  <span> of air from against Ari's chest until sleep finally took her. In the morning he’d held her still, </span>
  <span>both of them</span>
  <span> still dressed from the day before: belts, shoes and all. He’d not pulled away from her the entire night—being in bed this late in the morning was quite unlike him, as he was somehow always awake and up long before her—but when he realized she'd awoken, he tightened his embrace for a long moment placing a light kiss on her hair before pulling away, getting up to begin the day in silence and leaving her to herself.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari had made no other attempts to put himself into her space and he had made no move to try to fill any hole Folkwin left. Thusnelda hadn’t realized what this had meant to her at the time. She had never turned to Folkwin for comfort. She handled things on her own. But that Ari was so aware of her needs and so ready to step in or step away had mystified her. Soon after that night, she had felt a slow shift in her own heart. She knew he’d loved her first, no matter how he’d tried to hide it. Even within the first weeks of their marriage she’d already seen it in glimpses as he caught her eyes, only to be masked over as soon as they had risen. But soon, she too found herself drawn to him in different ways than friendship or respect as her husband or fellow warrior. She saw the way he moved, the way he carried himself; how he laughed (when he did, rarely, and it was often only caused by her if not even more rarely by Talio). Though he did not often smile genuinely (often only more appropriately politically, and Thusnelda quickly learned to discern the difference), there would be a mischievous glimmer in his bright blue eyes whenever he coached an unbidden smile out of her. She was fascinated by watching him still trimming his hair but found herself strangely excited when she realized he’d stopped shaving altogether. He always seemed to disappear whenever she was changing or bathing, and she too somehow never saw him in any measure of undress. He still slept only with his back to her. He never touched her unbidden. But she could see how he wished he could—in the smallest twitch of his fingers as he could have reached for her or his nearly taking a step closer to her side than was contractually required as husband. As time went on, though, Thusnelda occasionally found herself coaxing him closer: asking him if her hair was mussed, and could he fix it? Was her dress pinned evenly? Dutifully, almost stiffly, he would reach forward and re-pin her shoulders, eyes never meeting hers—but as time went on, the flush that would bloom over his cheeks rose less and less as he unpinned her chiton, pinching the fabric together between his fingers as he reoriented and straightened it—at first, his hands hovering far above her skin so as not to touch, but soon carefully bracing against her shoulders. She even sometimes took it on herself to pin his plaid around him or as she learned how he donned his armor, helping him tie it down. Sometimes, though, she found that she herself had drifted closer to him without meaning to even without a halfhearted excuse—and he remained stock still, never willing to close the remaining distance. He still knew he was not what she wanted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who </span>
  </em>
  <span>she </span>
  <span>wanted.</span>
  
  
</p><p>
  <span>But</span>
  <span> the night before he’d left for </span>
  <span>Varus</span>
  
  <span>had been enough to make her </span>
  <span>understand just</span>
  <span> how she’d changed. </span>
  <span>In the </span>
  <span>firelight </span>
  <span>of their private quarters of the hall</span>
  <span> as they went back over their plan, he could not meet her eyes. </span>
  
  <span>When he turned to her as she called his name, </span>
  <span>the terror </span>
  <span>she saw</span>
  <span> was unbarred.</span>
  <span> It</span>
  <span> wasn’t the fear of </span>
  <span>death</span>
  <span>: it was </span>
  <span>everything that she had known he’d felt risen all at once. </span>
  <span>They both knew the slow </span>
  <span>agony of crucifixion. She had seen it</span>
  <span> carried out only </span>
  <span>once, but</span>
  <span> who knew</span>
  <span> h</span>
  <span>ow</span>
  <span> many times</span>
  <span> he </span>
  <span>had witnessed </span>
  <span>both the guilty and the innocent strung up for </span>
  <span>next to nothing. That was not what she saw: it</span>
  <span> was blind fear </span>
  <span>of </span>
  <span>the thought of being taken from her. She understood. She had stepped forward with </span>
  <span>her own eyes searching over his face</span>
  <span> as she spoke.</span>
  
  <em>
    <span>I can’t lose you again. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The words seemed to wound him. As he moved towards her, it was slowly, as if he was afraid she would realize what she’d said and she would run or that she would strike him if he grew too close, and his kiss had been </span>
  <span>nervous</span>
  <span>, but as she responded </span>
  <span>his lips</span>
  <span> grew desperate—and she replied in kind. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He took her into his arms with a strength that had surprised her (though it probably shouldn’t have—his body was more or less a perfect copy of his cuirass, she had thought with amusement), but it</span>
  <span> had been Thusnelda that had nearly forced him into their bedding</span>
  <span>. They</span>
  <span> tore each other’s clothes away with a wild </span>
  <span>agony for closeness</span>
  <span> she had never known before. </span>
  <span>At first, he’d</span>
  <span> let her lead: they did not speak</span>
  <span>. They </span>
  <span>were too focused on each other</span>
  <span>:</span>
  
  <span>tasting, touching, overcome with </span>
  <span>themselves as</span>
  
  <span>their bodies fitted </span>
  <span>together </span>
  <span>close and perfect</span>
  <span>. She</span>
  <span> was amazed at how different he felt</span>
  
  <span>aga</span>
  <span>inst </span>
  <span>her. His skin was softer but for his scarred, thickly calloused hands</span>
  <span> and the taught </span>
  <span>muscles </span>
  <span>beneath his skin,</span>
  <span> specifically </span>
  <span>of his abdomen</span>
  <span> and legs</span>
  
  <span>from his years of constant riding</span>
  <span>. There were different scars that wound across his body from far more battles than Folkwin could have ever seen. There were still the barest lines of a tan marking his </span>
  <span>arms</span>
  <span>, disappearing since he had returned north. He smelled so different, his skin tasted new, his lips were not the same shape that she’d known how to kiss—but he surrendered to her touch so wholly that she could barely contain herself, pinning his shoulders to the bedding as she pulled herself on top of him, his hands clutching</span>
  <span>—but not forcing—</span>
  <span>her hips </span>
  <span>above his own </span>
  <span>as they kissed, </span>
  <span>tongues tasting </span>
  <span>each other, teeth knocking, but as she </span>
  <span>rolled </span>
  <span>herself</span>
  <span> down and </span>
  <span>guided </span>
  <span>their bodies </span>
  <span>together</span>
  <span>, she found herself taking all of him inside her at once to the sound of his desperate groan </span>
  <span>quickly </span>
  <span>muffled in her shoulder as he bit down into the crook of her neck, nearly causing her to cry out the same. Thusnelda had been dumbstruck</span>
  <span> by the </span>
  <span>heat that grew between</span>
  <span> them as their bodies came together at last and </span>
  <span>when she managed to meet his gaze, she saw the same in him—bliss, agony, devotion, desperation, hunger—</span>
  <span>he had held her hips fast against his, </span>
  <span>nails dug into her flesh with his hands trembling, </span>
  <span>his breath tight as he reined in his own body before he let her guide their pace.</span>
  
  <span>He responded to her immediately; instinctually pulling </span>
  <span>himself </span>
  <span>upwards</span>
  <span> to </span>
  <span>envelope</span>
  <span> her</span>
  <span> in his arms as she had wrapped her legs around him</span>
  <span>, neither wanting any separation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gods </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> you </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>learn quickly</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she had thought as </span>
  <span>he </span>
  <span>followe</span>
  <span>d and soon anticipate</span>
  <span>d her </span>
  <span>touches</span>
  <span>. His hands gripped </span>
  <span>at her sides, pulling her </span>
  <span>deeper</span>
  <span> until she </span>
  <span>pulled</span>
  <span> them </span>
  <span>both </span>
  <span>backwards</span>
  <span> with him above her</span>
  <span>—and she was almost taken by surprise at how hard he took her when he was in control. Her head had rushed as his thrusts occasionally slowed, </span>
  <span>trailing kisses across her chest and arms, neck, and lips, his hands wound tight in her hair, </span>
  <span>holding her against him as he composed himself</span>
  <span> and bracing against her shoulders</span>
  <span>—only to begin</span>
  <span> again</span>
  <span> at the slightest twitch of her hips or the rake of her nails across his back.</span>
  <span> She only realized now in retrospect that he was trying to last for her</span>
  <span>—for the both of them. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He kissed her hard enough that her lips were</span>
  <span> still </span>
  <span>flushed</span>
  <span> with light</span>
  
  <span>bruises </span>
  <span>in the morning, </span>
  <span>and they </span>
  <span>both </span>
  <span>came with </span>
  <span>her name slurred and broken from his lips</span>
  <span>, his from hers in a strangled scream</span>
  <span> and spent tears in both of their eyes as she met his and </span>
  <span>finally </span>
  <span>said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>y</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>ou. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He gazed back at her in wonder at the words from her </span>
  <span>lips, likely</span>
  <span> something he had never dreamed of hearing. </span>
  <span>His</span>
  <span> reply was whispered, softer than she’d ever heard him speak, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cupita</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> mea, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>te</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>amo</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Even though she had never heard the words before (and was surprised that they were in Latin; had he forgotten how to speak?), she could guess what he meant. She barely remembered them rolling over and slipping into sleep</span>
  <span>, listening to the sound of each other's deep and slowing breathing,</span>
  <span> but for her quiet command, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come back to me, Ari</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’d </span>
  <span>taken her hand, his own trembling around hers</span>
  <span> from </span>
  <span>euphoria and fear. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thusnelda, if I am to die, do not remember </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>whatever they do to my </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>body. Just remember </span>
  </em>
  <span>me</span>
  <em>
    <span>. Please. I will remember you.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>He closed</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>his eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I will remember you </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>through anything they do to me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She squeezed his hand in return and turned into his arms, pulling him into her own embrace to place one final kiss on his still-unfamiliar lips</span>
  <span>. She tried to tamp down the fear that</span>
  
  <span>s</span>
  <span>he </span>
  <span>would never </span>
  <span>memorize</span>
  
  <span>everything</span>
  <span> that made him beg or made him blind for her</span>
  <span>—his taste, his scent, his shape, the way he’d hold her</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>She would forget the </span>
  <span>light of his eyes. </span>
  <span>She would forget the sound of his laughter</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
  <span>She shook her head and traced the edge of his jaw beneath his short beard.</span>
  
  <em>
    <span>No matter what, we will meet again in the belly of the wolf, Ari. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But</span>
  <span> in the morning when she woke, he was gone. </span>
  <span>As Thusnelda had stood in the dark and quiet, alone in their home as she stared at the empty corner where Ari’s armor </span>
  <span>always stayed</span>
  <span> neatly </span>
  <span>squared away</span>
  <span>, she was stunned by how empty she felt. </span>
  <span>When they met on the field, he nearly stumbled to her, struck dumb at the sight of her alive before him. </span>
  <span>He looked so different</span>
  <span> clean shaven again, </span>
  <span>armor dulled with mud and blood but </span>
  <span>face marked in the </span>
  <span>paint of their people, </span>
  <span>eyes so soft and tender as he took her </span>
  <span>chee</span>
  <span>ks</span>
  <span> in his hands. </span>
  <span>His embrace was crushing and could have been painful if she had not been just as relieved to see him breathing.</span>
  <span> That he was alive was enough. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>they </span>
  </em>
  <span>were alive was enough.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When they returned home, their formerly political marriage had so suddenly switched course to one of genuine love and growth together that neither of them had seemed to know what to do with it at first—but neither seemed to mind as they started again from scratch. They were deep down the same people that they’d known as children, but they had learned so much in their times apart and the journey to learning about each other was one that they embarked upon with joy. As much as they still remembered of each other and as much as Ari was wholeheartedly working to return to his Germanic ways of life, he was still different. He would never un-learn Rome completely. He thought and spoke differently than the rest of the tribe; he likely always would. By extension, their relationship was different. They both knew that. Thusnelda had obviously seen the way her own parents had interacted, and she’d known Folkwin’s parents well—the village </span>
  <span>as a whole was</span>
  <span> so close-knit that it was clear enough how each family unit worked. No matter how strong-willed any wife was, though, the only way she could get anything her way was often to convince her husband it was his idea, and everyone knew a woman’s place. Thusnelda herself had always known where she would end up no matter how much she wanted to ignore it; deep down, she’d always known she’d never be Folkwin’s bride and her sole purpose was to make children until either she herself died or her husband decided he’d had enough of her. Not with Ari, though. He loved her as she was, not trying to force her down into a woman-shaped box to hide her away now that she had had her fun in the world. He wanted her input. He wanted her to be involved. Thusnelda knew that was a decidedly un-Roman point of view, having more or less been told as much by Ari </span>
  <span>and also</span>
  <span> never having seen a single Roman woman her entire life. So, it was just Ari, loving her: as a woman and as a friend. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>B</span>
  <span>efore Ari, she and Folkwin were bullheaded enough that that it was rare for one of them to stand down, even though Folkwin usually ended up blindly following her every word—seldom coming up with his own solutions—in a way that in retrospect made Thusnelda uncomfortable. She had seemed to be the other half of his person. Thinking about it now, Thusnelda decided that he probably didn’t know what to do without her, unlike Ari: he could not only function on his own, but he had clearly excelled at it. He didn’t need her, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>to follow her—but only in cases where he knew she would lead better. Perhaps that was his time in Rome, but she doubted it was Rome, exactly—perhaps it was more that as much as he was used to absolute command of his own troops and giving orders, he was used to taking them. As their rebellion had been so suddenly won and the armies had dispersed, Arminius settling into some semblance of a civilian life, he’d not seemed to know what to do.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It had made him seem more comfortable at first</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>The first morning he woke up without a plan </span>
  <span>he woke up in a cold sweat</span>
  <span>, and it was only when Thusnelda</span>
  <span> began to hand him </span>
  <span>the makings of breakfast</span>
  
  <span>and directed him to w</span>
  <span>ork alongside her</span>
  <span> that he began to relax again after his nearly sleepless night.</span>
  <span> When he left for the day, he kissed her </span>
  <span>deeply,</span>
  <span> very much </span>
  <span>more </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span> than he had been</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
  <span>Since then, any time </span>
  <span>he seemed </span>
  <span>to need so, </span>
  <span>she was able to often enough give him a list of to-dos</span>
  <span>, ranging from “carry the water” to </span>
  <span>“on your knees, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Domine</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He tended to respond quite well to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Domine</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Once </span>
  <span>that was established</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> there didn’t </span>
  <span>seem</span>
  <span> to be </span>
  <span>much she couldn’t help him get through.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As confident as he was as a ruler, his role as a husband still sometimes seemed to terrify him. Love was uncharted territory, and Ari hated not understanding things. She knew he wanted her and wanted everything she’d be willing to give, but he didn’t know how to go about it—so he asked, if he could figure out how: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Show me. Tell me. Please. May I? </span>
  </em>
  <span>And if he couldn’t figure out how—or work up the nerve—to ask, Thusnelda soon learned to draw it out of him. She began to recognize the flickers of everything from nerves to interest in his eyes just as he memorized her temperaments. He trusted her completely and, in the beginning, followed her lead implicitly: touch-starved, unsure of how to treat her and desperate for her guidance, and so unable and unwilling to ask for anything from her in return. As Thusnelda grew to understand him better, though, she learned his needs and began to discover all the ways he’d learned to be alone—and he learned where he could lend his own knowledge of survival. He learned how to ask for help, just as she learned how to make him ask her if she had to. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or how to make him beg,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought, a small smile coming over her face. She was surprised at how much she, too, enjoyed it. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But just like the first night he’d held her, he learned how to draw it out of her, too. She hadn’t realized how much she’d swallowed down of her own pain and emotions over her life until Ari began to ask and react, remembering what helped and didn’t; where he was needed and where he should leave her be. But he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>there when he needed to be. He listened. He held her. He stayed with her, no matter how bad it got. If anything proved it, it was the pregnancy: hours, nights, and weeks of rubbing her shoulders, cups of water, dumping and rinsing her bucket more times than she could fathom. (Knowing him, he might have kept count.) But he was there, just like he was here now. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Nelda, you know I have been done for some time,” she heard quietly behind her, making her jump; Ari sighed as his hands traced down her arms, guiding her to lean back against him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I honestly forgot what you were doing,” she said sheepishly, twisting around and curling herself against his chest, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face in his neck, kissing the healing bruises that had formed beneath his collar. She smiled at his soft laugh. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I am putting you to bed, Amica Mea. Tomorrow is a big day for Little One.” She sighed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” She pulled away only slightly, settling herself farther into the bedding, pulling away only enough to let herself gaze over her husband's face. “Are you ready? When Folkwin hears—” Ari rose an eyebrow.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Folkwin isn’t his father. I am. And you, Thusnelda, are his mother: if Folkwin wants to try to take Little One, he will have to get past the both of us, not to mention the rest of the tribe. Talio’s family, too. You know even Genovefa would run him right through, and Sucaria has already proven herself, as much as it pains us all to know it. But we will all do everything in our power to keep him safe and you know it.” Thusnelda couldn’t help but smile. Ari leaned forward, kissing her lightly. “I love you, Thusnelda. We are in this together. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>our </span>
  </em>
  <span>family, and we will protect it.” She nodded as he pulled her close against him, tugging one of the pelts over them. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Te</span>
  
  <span>amo</span>
  <span>, Ari,” she said quietly, closing her eye and burying herself against him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Te</span>
  
  <span>amo</span>
  <span>,” he replied. They both fell into sleep not long after.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Naming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well...my written thesis document is finished. I'm waiting on approval signatures from my committee before I can submit it to the school...but I guess that's that? Wild, man. </p><p>But what that really means is that I can finally start posting the next five(ish) chapters. They aren't done. But now, I can actually finish this utter nonsense. I never meant for this to end up as 70k words (and counting...) but, here we are. Thanks for sticking with me, those of you who have.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ari stood as they heard a knock on the door, and he opened it to </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> and her two eldest daughters. </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> met Ari’s gaze with a wink and a smile and the girls ran forward in giggles, throwing their arms around him and chorusing together some Naming Day blessings, (“Ladies, it is not mine.” “Don't matter!”), but </span>
  <span>Sueva's</span>
  <span> face quickly turned tender as she made her way to Thusnelda.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>It’s </span>
  <span>abou</span>
  <span>t tha</span>
  <span>t </span>
  <span>time,” </span>
  <span>she said, taking the </span>
  <span>younger women’s</span>
  <span> hand.</span>
  
  <span>“Are you ready?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, ask him,” Thusnelda said, gesturing to the baby—who was still soundly sleeping. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t seem nearly as excited as he should,” </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> mused. Ari pried his arms free from the girls and rested his hand on </span>
  <span>Genovefa’s</span>
  <span> head—which she hated. He laughed when she shot him a venomous look, and she swatted his hand away. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re too tall,” she pouted, stomping away towards the bassinette, which she kneeled next to, peering down at the baby with wide eyes. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re too short,” Ari said. Sucaria stifled a </span>
  <span>laugh.</span>
  <span> When </span>
  <span>Genovefa’s</span>
  <span> eyes again threw daggers at him, he rose his hands in truce. “Get taller, that </span>
  <span>is</span>
  <span> all I’m suggesting.”  </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough, children,” Thusnelda said, dragging herself to her feet, groaning the whole way—she ached from the ride the day before, but at least today they wouldn’t have to journey farther than the village center. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Runa’s come already,” </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> said as she handed Thusnelda a fresh, undyed ceremonial dress. “She’s out in the hall; she’s already preparing herself. And you’ve got guests arriving, too,” she said as she </span>
  <span>gestured</span>
  <span> to Ari. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> just wanted to say good morning, and now </span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>are going to leave,” </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> finished poignantly, her eyes firmly going between her daughters, lingering on Genovefa. Genovefa’s pleaded back to her for a moment before she admitted defeat. </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> rolled her eyes as she took her daughter’s hand, not quite dragging her out behind her. “They’ve only had him for a week, young lady; give ‘</span>
  <span>em</span>
  <span> a little more time and I'm sure his ma will let you have him all you want.” She shut the door behind them, but Thusnelda and Ari heard the muffled sounds of Genovefa’s most assuredly well-constructed argument.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari came to Thusnelda’s side, gently helping her into her clean dress and settling her back down as Arnulf finally began to wake up. Naming Days were always a bit of excitement—and the </span>
  <span>reik’s</span>
  <span> heir’s Naming Day on the Equinox after offering as heavy a sacrifice as the child's grandmother was extra cause. Ari had already been up (as usual) to take care of a few chores and had seen a few guests arriving: they’d sent word through the other tribes that a son had been born. Ari found himself going down a list of tribes and emissaries he would most like to see—it wasn’t long, but at least he found that he was genuinely looking forward to seeing more people than just those in his tribe. Maybe it was because in Germania, the term “backstabbing” was far more literal. Political aims were achieved with swords—not catty lies and intrigue. While he’d gotten good enough at it in the army under Varus’s tutelage, he much preferred to fight his way out of a situation, or to set the </span>
  <span>precident</span>
  <span> that it wouldn’t be worth the fight for others to try. The other </span>
  <span>reiks</span>
  <span>—for the most part—had by now seemed to take the hint. But only time would tell. Either way, Ari kissed Thusnelda and got up, leaving her to attend to their child, and with an exchange of “</span>
  <span>Te</span>
  
  <span>amo</span>
  <span>,” he left them to attend to begin to </span>
  <span>receive</span>
  <span> the guests.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As the attendees gathered before the ceremonial cairn at the edge of the village, the same sacred tree where Ari and Thusnelda had been wed and all others of the tribe before them, silence reigned. Runa was, as always, dressed dark—but uncharacteristically (so far as Ari was concerned), through her loose auburn hair was woven early cherry blossoms and yarrow. He </span>
  <span>almost could</span>
  <span> have laughed at the contrast with the remaining bones of her totemic necklace, but it to was threaded through with new growth. It was Ansgar that led them down the parted aisle through the tribe from the hall to the seeress herself, a hand in each Thusnelda’s and Ari’s. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They had decided that Ari would carry the baby. They knew that there were still a few who had their doubts. Runa, at least, was pleased with their approach: it was tradition for the father to carry the baby, but it was still enough of a statement that it would hopefully prove their conviction. But Ansgar was giggling the whole way, swinging his arms as he walked them forward; none of them could hold back the smiles on their faces, and as they came to the foot of the cairn where Talio and his family stood, Ari suddenly felt a swelling of nerves. It wasn’t the oaths—it was just...it was real. It was really happening. This was a life, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>life. A life with loved ones and honest fights, with honest allies, </span>
  <span>a</span>
  <span> honest family, a wife whom he loved and was deeply loved by in return. What if they somehow realized that he could never be enough to deserve them </span>
  <span>all?</span>
  <span> But as he glanced between Talio, </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span>, Sucaria and her siblings, Thusnelda, and finally down to the baby nestled in the crook of his arm, it all fell away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I will enjoy this, and I will make myself enough. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He turned up to Runa as she reached out to him and he stepped forward, gently transferring the newborn to her arms—and he suddenly felt weightless and untethered. As he stepped back to Thusnelda’s side, she reached up and brushed her fingers across his arm, glancing over at him with a nervous, elated smile—they would do this together. They would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>together.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Runa</span>
  
  <span>lifted </span>
  <span>the baby, her </span>
  <span>blackened</span>
  <span> fingers </span>
  <span>stark against </span>
  <span>the </span>
  <span>baby’s </span>
  <span>pink</span>
  <span> skin</span>
  <span> as she cradled him in her </span>
  <span>arms.</span>
  <span> She looked down at him</span>
  
  <span>for a long while before turning to Thusnelda, then to Ari. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Speak the name of this child, so the tribe may know him.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He is </span>
  <span>Arnulf</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  
  
</p><p>
  <span>Runa nodded, submerging her hand in the upturned skullcap of water that Ansgar brought her, then gently trailing her fingers across the baby’s chest, arms, and face. He cried as she did—Ari absently wondered if it was because the water was too cold, too warm, or just because it felt odd. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s a baby. Everything feels odd to him, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he reminded himself. Runa smiled down at the child and somehow, he quieted. When the seeress turned her face back to Ari’s however, she beckoned him forward. Ari stood and immersed his own fingers and palm, reaching forward just as Runa had instructed before, and placed them across his son’s chest, leaving his palm print behind and speaking the words he’d been told. Runa muttered her reply and Thusnelda reached forward as well, leaving her own handprint. As she did, Runa’s voice rose—the words she spoke, Ari did not know; they were older than anyone knew and only the seers understood them—but as her voice grew louder, Arnulf began to wail. Ari felt an odd twitch in his arms to take the baby out of her grasp to comfort him and smiled, instead finding Thusnelda’s hand, who gripped his hard in response. As Runa dipped her hand back into the water, flicking it into the four corners of the earth, her chants quieted. </span>
  <span>Finally</span>
  <span> she was at a near whisper as she turned her face back down to him, and as she petered into silence, she was smiling. She looked back over the assembled tribe, rocking the baby against her chest. With a clear voice, she spoke. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“This</span>
  <span> child is </span>
  <span>Arnulf</span>
  <span>; the wolf and the eagle. </span>
  <span>He is named</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>He </span>
  <span>is blessed.”</span>
  
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari and Thusnelda </span>
  <span>could barely hold back their joy as </span>
  <span>Arnulf</span>
  
  <span>was</span>
  <span> returned to Ari’s arms, the tribe cheering behind them.</span>
  
  <span>Runa</span>
  <span> smile down at them genuinely</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
  <span>“Care for him well,” </span>
  <span>Runa</span>
  
  <span>said </span>
  <span>quietly, resting her hand on </span>
  <span>Thusnelda’s</span>
  <span> head. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We will,” she said. She could barely hold back her </span>
  <span>giddy laughter as</span>
  <span> she wrapped her arms around the baby in Ari’s arms, her husband himself </span>
  <span>having turned back to the tribe </span>
  <span>to show off their new heir.</span>
  
  <span>He </span>
  <span>hugged him close and kissed the top of his head, then Thusnelda</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> joining her laughter—and </span>
  <span>the call went out from the hall that the feasting would begin.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As much as Thusnelda and </span>
  <span>Arnulf</span>
  <span> couldn’t even get up</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>people kept coming to her throne in a line of endless blessings, gifts, and congratulations</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>Ari never sat down</span>
  <span>: </span>
  <span>sharing drinks, trading news, and listening sincerely to all who spoke to him and everyone he sought out. His own tribesmen that had found </span>
  <span>Flavus</span>
  <span> had even made it: Ari welcomed them earnestly and gifted them with some of the finer spoils that </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> and his captains had brought back for such purposes, and they swore to tell of his glory and honor as far as the tribe reached—and to fight in the name of his son, just as their </span>
  <span>Reik’s</span>
  <span>. As Ari let them return to feasting, he took a moment to think of how surreal the sentence felt: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fighting for the name and honor of Prince </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Arnulf</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There were more than a few representatives from other tribes present, and since he hadn’t been present for the aftermath of the fight at the </span>
  <span>Wesser</span>
  <span>, he eagerly took in all the news that was passed on, with </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> at his side for much of it to impart his own. All were proud and grieving, but their brothers and sisters had died in glory: there was much </span>
  <span>more to celebrate than the young </span>
  <span>reik’s</span>
  <span> heir.</span>
  <span> Rome had quickly receded, if only a few miles—but it was clear that they were on their way to a full retreat. Most tribes had left what forces would stay in the woods to continue to harry the legions, just to be sure they remembered how unwelcome they were. In addition, the fact that Thusnelda the Seer, days away from labor, had beaten back her traitorous father—likely saving all the tribes in the process—was not lost on them, and the girl who had not only slain the </span>
  <span>him</span>
  <span> but carried on the news to the front was a sudden object of curiosity. Sucaria was not pleased by the attention. Ari quickly (but politely) excused her, sending her out to check the horses—and mentioning that she looked a bit tired still, perhaps she’d better to go home? He didn’t bother waiting for any sort of thank-you as he disappeared back to the hall with a wink, taking another deep drink as he did so.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It was well into the night when the feasting finally died down. Thusnelda had </span>
  <span>long-since </span>
  <span>retired not to their own private quarters, but to </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> and </span>
  <span>Sueva’s</span>
  <span> home—it was far quieter there (she had quickly learned how to tune out the other children, and </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> swore on pain of boiling them alive that if they woke her, the gods couldn’t even save them)—and Ari was slowly settling guests down to sleep before they departed in the morning. As he himself laid down, as exhausted as he still was, he found it impossible to fall asleep. He hadn’t slept alone in the hall since he became </span>
  <span>reik</span>
  <span>. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>I</span>
  <span>t seemed like a lifetime ago, and in a way, it was. </span>
  <span>That man</span>
  <span> was angry, he was cold, he was afraid, he was calculating—he was a Roman still. He still remembered the darkness of the room that first night; how he hadn’t even bothered to light much of a fire in the hearth</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Reik</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> Arminius. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now, h</span>
  <span>e smiled flatly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wish I hadn’t gotten stuck with </span>
  </em>
  <span>that </span>
  <em>
    <span>name. </span>
  </em>
  <span>As a boy, he’d always known he’d be </span>
  <span>reik</span>
  <span>, and then he’d been stolen from it</span>
  <span>. B</span>
  <span>ut the way he’d been thrust back into it had been more painful than he could have imagined. He lost so much. Everything, if you’d </span>
  <span>asked</span>
  <span> everyone he’d grown to know and call friend in the south. When he’d chosen to take up the mantle fully, turning on the man who he’d thought loved him</span>
  <span> as a son</span>
  <span>, he had lost everything else. But in between, he had gained, too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I was a different man then, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought, staring up at the darkness of the ceiling, cold despite his fire and the pelts and other bedding. He knew that to be true. Anyone who knew him now did. It had been Folkwin that might have convinced him to turn, just as much as the murder—not quite suicide, not quite sacrifice—of his father. And he’d always longed for Thusnelda, even though he knew it wouldn’t be mutual, and just like her, he knew his bride would come a stranger from some other tribe in the name of peace and alliances. But he had always wanted to see Thusnelda happy. He’d just never let himself believe that it would be at his side</span>
  <span>—he'd never once </span>
  <span>imagined he’d be raising </span>
  <span>Folkwin’s</span>
  
  <span>child, either, but that was that: in the eyes of the gods, now, Ari</span>
  <span> wa</span>
  <span>s the father</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
  <span>He’d sworn his life and blood to the babe, just as a father was required </span>
  <span>to do.</span>
  
  <span>He’d done so gladly</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>He couldn’t have imagined saying no.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari rolled over, trying to ignore the oppressive emptiness next to him, instead focusing on the light breathing of the fire, the sounds of someone still moving about in the hall; the pattern of his own breathing. It wasn’t as easy as it used to be, or as it was when he was in the field. Perhaps that was because he’d had a lifetime of tents and deference in his “father’s” house and was only now growing into the stillness of his own home—but his thoughts began to fade as he finally slipped into sleep. </span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As </span>
  <span>morning did come,</span>
  <span> much of the day was spent on farewells and </span>
  <span>reaffirming</span>
  <span> friendships</span>
  <span> (no </span>
  <span>matter how shallow</span>
  <span>)</span>
  <span>, alongside promises to discuss further terms of peace once things had settled down a bit more. The rest of the day went about a bit more normally as they put the village back in order, everyone settling back into their routines. Thusnelda, still exhausted from the long ride two days ago and from all the excitement the day before, spent much of the day resting, but as was custom, the village picked up any slack she may have left. Ari did much of what he could. But that </span>
  <span>night</span>
  <span>, when he was satisfied that he’d accomplished everything possible with the still minimal amount of daylight and ready to retire himself, </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> caught his eye and beckoned him behind the hall. Ari followed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Now how did all </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel?” </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> said when they’d made their way to sit. Ari laughed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It was something, I’ll give you that.” </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> shook his head and smiled. They began to talk about the day, the past few weeks; about how things had changed, and how they hadn’t and wouldn’t. Ari was grateful. Of all the things that he’d grown to appreciate since returning home, this was one of what he considered the most precious: genuine friendship that he didn’t have to work for. There were no angles. He didn’t have to think of how to </span>
  <em>
    <span>win </span>
  </em>
  <span>each conversation and didn’t have to constantly gauge and reevaluate his place. Rome was never a kind place for people of the societal standing he’d been given when he’d been stolen. Finally, he found himself stifling a yawn, and poorly at that—</span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> laughed and shook his head. But instead of a smile, his expression faded into one that was far more serious than Ari would have thought called for. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that I keep dragging you away to give you my gifts, but I just don’t like the attention,” he said, his voice halfway a joke—but mostly even and sad. Ari turned to face him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’ve been holding out on some </span>
  <span>Greek</span>
  <span> wine, I’ll have you whipped, and you know</span>
  
  <span>it</span>
  <span>,” he said, voice quite serious</span>
  <span> indeed.</span>
  
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> laughed—they had now often begun to joke about it, </span>
  <span>now </span>
  <span>most often brought up as an effective guilt trip by </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> (</span>
  <span>it was difficult</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>to come up with an argument against </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, when you almost murdered me…</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> but now</span>
  <span> his laugh was a bit flat. He instead reached behind the split log on which they sat, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Decent enough place to hide something, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ari mused, and unwrapped it from a </span>
  <span>focale</span>
  <span> stained with long-dried sweat—and Ari felt a slow pain build in his chest. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know if you would want it, Arminius,” </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> said quietly as he settled the sword in his lap. “But I brought it back with us, just in case you did.” Ari looked down at it—it was just as finely made as his own, but </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> hadn’t cleaned it. He’d likely set it aside while he ascertained whether or not Ari would even want to think about it again, then just never quite gotten around to it. Ari reached out for it and </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> handed it over. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said quietly, brushing some of the dirt from the </span>
  <span>hilt before he drew the gladius from its </span>
  <span>sheath</span>
  <span>—it still gleamed, even beneath the blood. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Germanic blood, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought.</span>
  <span> “I...it is complicated.” </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> waved his hand. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to try to explain it to me, </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  <span>.” Ari found a small smile tugging at his lips. When he looked back up at </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>Talio’s</span>
  <span> gaze was softer. “We buried him. Made sure of it. Sucaria disobeyed you—don't be angry at her. After she was sure you went back to the fighting, she went back and got his armor off him; hid him beneath a cloak. When I got there, she had me help her get him into something a little less...Roman. No one knew any better. No one got to him, and no one has any piece of him but you. But she thought that maybe if we sent him to our gods, he’d be among us again in the end.” Ari looked away, but his awareness was now on the </span>
  <span>torc</span>
  <span> and rings on his fingers—always there, but not there all the same. He nodded. Sucaria wouldn’t like it if he brought it up. But the thought of her waiting for him to leave, caring for the body of an enemy, going through the trouble of treating him like kin even after everything he’d done...before he could try to come up with something further to say, </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> stood and clasped his shoulder for a long moment, turning away and disappearing into the night in silence.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda had been through this clearing many times, just off the road but fairly far from her own village, but as she took a deep breath of the rich summer air, she nearly gagged at the smell of stale rot and stagnant peat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is wrong, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought, turning around, trying to find the source, but as she listened to the </span>
  <span>rhythmless</span>
  <span> patterns of wind through the trees and turned down to look at her hands, they were bathed slick with fresh blood</span>
  <span> that she knew was not her own</span>
  <span>, and when Folkwin reached forward to take them, he lifted her chin and met her eyes with a smile. Wait, her eye—the world was halved </span>
  <span>and flat i</span>
  <span>n the way it had become since she sacrifice her vision, and somehow, Folkwin didn’t look right. “Why am I here?” she said quietly, searching his face. His smile didn’t falter, but there was a sadness that spread throughout his expression as he guided her hands to rest on his chest, brushing her loose hair from her face and tracing the curve of her jaw and neck with the tips of his fingers. She felt his breathing rising and falling in silence for a long moment before he finally spoke.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You needed to see me, Thusnelda.” His voice made her feel weak in a way she had only felt once before: when she thought she was looking down at his half-burned body. </span>
  <span>But since, the pain had lessened—and she had tried to hold to it no longer. Why did it take her so wholly now? </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to see you.” He laughed softly, shaking his head, but he suddenly looked </span>
  <span>beside her, and then </span>
  <span>past her, eyes centering in the clearing</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span> When she turned, the pit of her stomach began to sink, and the world started to slip. Behind them in the clearing stood three others: </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> and Sucaria, </span>
  <span>with </span>
  <span>Arnulf</span>
  <span> in her arms, </span>
  <span>side by side and </span>
  <span>blood-stained. But </span>
  <span>Ari</span>
  <span> stood right behind her and</span>
  <span> he looked back at her in silence, his face as impassive as the others'. Thusnelda stared, unsure of why he looked so </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong—</span>
  </em>
  <span>until she saw the blood pooling at his feet, </span>
  <span>the streaming across the ground until it reached her own, </span>
  <span>which she followed upwards to a large, dark, wet stain formed beneath his shirt. His face was growing </span>
  <span>both white </span>
  <span>and flushed as if with fever</span>
  <span>, eyes dark above his sallow cheeks,</span>
  <span> his lips </span>
  <span>pale</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>and </span>
  <span>they both turned back to see the baby Sucaria </span>
  <span>held </span>
  <span>behind them</span>
  <span>,</span>
  
  <span>swaddled in his dripping wet plaid </span>
  <span>as he </span>
  <span>began to wail</span>
  <span>. When Ari turned back to Thusnelda, </span>
  <span>the blood was </span>
  <span>dark and thick and drying, </span>
  <span>his breathing shallow</span>
  <span> and labored</span>
  <span> as he tried to </span>
  <span>open his mouth to speak, but somehow, he could not</span>
  <span>—and </span>
  <span>fear</span>
  <span> was growing in his eyes.</span>
  
  <span>The world around them kept draining into </span>
  <span>black</span>
  <span>-bright-grey-</span>
  <span>nothingness, the clearing around them indistinct as she lost her grip. But when she turned back to Folkwin, her </span>
  <span>words</span>
  <span> died in her throat as she let go of the spear buried deeply in </span>
  <span>Folkwin’s</span>
  <span> chest, and the baby hadn’t stopped screaming as Folkwin held him, rocking him gently. As he looked down at his rent chest in amazement, he looked back to his screaming son</span>
  <span>, cradling his head tenderly against his chest, the baby </span>
  <span>cold and his fingers pruned up </span>
  <span>muddy, </span>
  <span>and then</span>
  <span> Folkwin turned</span>
  <span> to Thusnelda, </span>
  <span>disappointment plain </span>
  <span>on his face</span>
  <span>. But he pulled her forward and kissed her, </span>
  <span>forcefully </span>
  <span>and painfully, </span>
  <span>and all she could taste was blood—</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thusnelda.” She started, suddenly aware of her heart racing in her ears and her own frantic breathing. She was cold—too cold—but there was the steady rhythm of a hand tracing circles across her shoulder. There was no screaming; all she heard was the low fire and the breathing of another. The air held not acrid, choking rot, but the fresh straw beneath them—</span>
  <span>them?—</span>
  <span>and the smell of home. When she opened her eye, she was for a moment confused, then panicked, to see Ari </span>
  <span>laying</span>
  <span> next to her. But he looked back at her with concern in his eyes—tired, but bright—and he breathed evenly, and when Thusnelda </span>
  <span>tore</span>
  <span> away the covers, she looked down at </span>
  <span>the smooth skin of his </span>
  <span>torso</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>Tentatively, she reached out and traced the white knot left by </span>
  <span>Berulf's</span>
  <span> axe, but there was nothing else. His body was clean. Ari reached for her hand, taking it to kiss the heel of her palm</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
  <span>He took in a steady breath</span>
  <span>, eyes gentle and knowing.  </span>
  <span>“I’m safe and well, Nelda. Nothing has happened to me.</span>
  
  <span>It was a dream,” Ari said quietly. As he reached out to pull her in for a kiss, though, she balked, still tasting lingering blood. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It didn’t feel like a dream,” Thusnelda said as she sat up, hugging her knees to her chest, letting her </span>
  <span>braid fall over her shoulder</span>
  <span> as she craned her neck forward to see </span>
  <span>Arnulf</span>
  <span>, soundly sleeping in his basket, warm and dry.</span>
  <span> “It was</span>
  <span>...</span>
  <span>wrong. It wasn’t a dream.” Ari sat up next to her, resting forward on his elbows. He didn’t try to reach out to touch her</span>
  <span>, but he settled his </span>
  <span>hand on </span>
  <span>top of the bedding between them—ever so slightly closer to himself than to her, just in case she wanted to maintain her space. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to speak of it?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No.</span>
  <span>” </span>
  <span>She barely even let him finish</span>
  <span>. He </span>
  <span>nodded and kept his silence, but he peered over the edge of the</span>
  <span> bassinet to check the baby, a small smile </span>
  <span>twitching to</span>
  <span> the corner of his lips. </span>
  <span>Thusnelda again looked him over,</span>
  
  <span>somehow unsure of what she saw, even though she was sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> was real—</span>
  <span>the world </span>
  <span>wasn’t flowing </span>
  <span>from </span>
  <span>image to image any longer, and when she </span>
  <span>rolled her tongue in her mouth, she realized that she had bit it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe to stop myself from screaming, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought</span>
  <span>, reaching up and running her hand down along the line of her braid.</span>
  <span> “I need to speak with </span>
  <span>Runa</span>
  <span>,” she said </span>
  <span>finally.</span>
  
  <span>Ari didn’t move and there was no catch in his </span>
  <span>breath</span>
  <span>—but she saw the sudden flick of his eyes away from the baby </span>
  <span>towards her direction</span>
  <span>. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>If you like, you can take </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> tomorrow</span>
  <span>. I can sen</span>
  <span>d </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> with you</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>Or Sucaria, if you would prefer.” </span>
  <span>Thusnelda nodded. </span>
  <span>Finally, she reached out </span>
  <span>and slid her hand beneath his, and he </span>
  <span>gently squeezed her fingers. </span>
  <span>Despite</span>
  <span> her stubbornness</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>despite</span>
  <span> her</span>
  
  <span>general </span>
  <span>frustration at any helplessness she’d felt for the past months, she sighed, closing her </span>
  <span>eye and doing her best to count out a slow breath.</span>
  
  <span>She was shaken—and she doubted the feeling would go away soon. She knew as much as it painted her to say so, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>helpless. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> would be best.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A</span>
  <span>ri pulled his hand away and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against his chest</span>
  <span>. He</span>
  
  <span>bent down to kiss her </span>
  <span>brow</span>
  <span> and nestled her </span>
  <span>head to rest in the crook of his shoulder, resting his cheek on her hair. Thusnelda breathed deeply, his scent lulling her as she </span>
  <span>traced the lines of his </span>
  <span>bare </span>
  <span>chest from </span>
  <span>the smooth skin across </span>
  <span>his</span>
  <span> ribs</span>
  <span> to </span>
  <span>the thin line of hair trailing down from his navel</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
  <span>They sat together in the darkened room for some time</span>
  <span>, Thusnelda </span>
  <span>falling</span>
  <span> very nearly asleep, until they heard </span>
  <span>a small noise of movement from the bassinet.</span>
  <span> Ari </span>
  <span>sighed sleepily and released his embrace, letting Thusnelda reach down </span>
  <span>to pick </span>
  <span>Arnulf</span>
  <span> up before he started screaming.</span>
  
  <span>As she settled him into her arms to nurse, Ari got up to get her a drink of water</span>
  <span> and</span>
  <span> he settled back into bed</span>
  <span>, changing the subject</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>now </span>
  <span>pointing out how he</span>
  <span>’d seen </span>
  <span>Iestinus</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>Talio's</span>
  <span> youngest mercenary—</span>
  <span>fawning </span>
  <span>over his new bride</span>
  <span> (the </span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span>yer had caved and indeed had </span>
  <span>given the poor, accident prone, good-hearted young man his daughter)</span>
  <span>—and</span>
  <span> hasn’t she seemed quite tired, and</span>
  <span> didn’t she look quite green yesterday? </span>
  <span>She barely ate a thing! </span>
  <span>Thusnelda couldn’t help but laugh—</span>
  <span>Ari wasn’t much for gossip, but he</span>
  <span> knew how to get her mind off things.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And that was everything you saw?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda nodded, her chin on Ansgar’s head as he dozed against her. “It was like the first time, when I gave my eye. It was real. But it felt so...out of order. Or all at once. I’m not sure.” Runa watched her, Arnulf asleep in her arms. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Was </span>
  </em>
  <span>it real?” Runa looked back at Thusnelda, her clear gaze difficult to decipher—Thusnelda again wondered exactly she looked like under all the paint. The silence between them stretched long enough that Thusnelda worried she’d be told to just go home—but finally, Runa spoke.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you this child needed sacrifices,” she said, her eyes fixed on Thusnelda. “You must wait for this to play out on its own. Perhaps it is as clear as you saw, perhaps it is not. Either way, you can do nothing. These seeds are sown. We will have to wait to see which grow.” Thusnelda looked down at Arnulf, who was stirring slightly in his sleep. Runa sighed. “Live your lives. You were told that you needed to see it, and so you saw. Hold to it, but do not let it consume you. You will remember when the time comes.” Thusnelda looked back up at Runa. She was suddenly struck by the kindness in her eyes—had she ever seen the seer direct such a sincere softness towards her? “You are brave and strong, and you have suffered. You will suffer more in your life, and your life will have more pain than most. You brought much of it upon yourself. But," Runa stood, slowly and smoothly, “you still have your duties. Go back to them.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She did her best to do so. She and Talio rode back in silence and as usual, Ari didn’t ask what was said. When they’d returned home, he’d merely helped her dismount, nestling Arnulf in the crook of his arm and taking Thusnelda in the other, holding her close against him as he kissed her hair. She leaned in, savoring the contact—but the memory of his sallow cheeks, the fear in his eyes, and the blood on her tongue was fresh—and she forced it down and away, trying to follow Runa’s command. Before she could think about it, she realized that she had reached up and her fingers were tracing across his right side, and she pulled back, her eye flicking up to his. He smiled down at her gently and planted a quick kiss on her forehead. It was enough to disrupt the thread of thoughts that were building. He began to pull away. “Come.” He took her hand and led her back inside, settling her in bed as he took care to put down the baby. As she watched Ari settle Arnulf in the bassinette, kneeling beside it as he watched his son’s sleeping face, she forgot that she was afraid.</span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>More soon(ish) to come. Hopefully you like it as much as I have. As usual, a most sincere thanks to Eastern_Lights for her Latin help, and for her encouragement in getting me forward. Thanks for reading, everybody. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The Everyday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some fluff, for those who need it. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The spring drew on in remarkable peace: all the tribes, it seemed, had had their fill of war for the time being. There were still enough spoils to sate them and the wounded were healing—not to mention how many dead they’d had to bury. During the full moon after the equinox Ari and Talio had gone to the meet with the other </span>
  <span>reiks</span>
  <span> and a formal truce had been agreed upon to last at least until the end of the year. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’ll see about that,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Talio said under his breath when they’d returned the next afternoon, sitting with Ari, Thusnelda, and his wife in the hall as it was again overrun with his children. Since they’d moved into the house that had formerly belonged to Thusnelda’s family right next door, it had been even harder to keep any semblance of separation between their households—the children were insatiable for the space to run in and the rafters to climb through, and Thusnelda barely had to do any of the dirty work with cooking anymore. Ari continued to dote on Sucaria, so much so now that Thusnelda though he’d just gone ahead and decided he'd take her on as a younger sister (especially after her ride to find him at the front)—which she’d wondered aloud to him once that perhaps was it from losing Flavus? To which he’d shrugged, replying, </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s better than Flavus. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But there was something in his eyes when he said it—grief stricken and thankful. He never said any more about it, but Thusnelda had noticed the sudden appearance of another gladius, settled next to his old one—his sword before he’d been knighted—laid atop a folded, stained </span>
  <span>focale</span>
  <span>. She also noticed the way Sucaria, too, looked at it sometimes, eyes dark and thoughtful—and once when one of her brothers reached for it to fiddle with it how she’d swatted him away and told him off a bit more harshly than Thusnelda might have thought necessary. Thusnelda decided then that she knew where it had come from. She had few memories of the man now called Flavus, and she knew that Ari would likely keep most of his to himself. When he’d returned from the Wesser, he hadn’t come with the sword—but if either Ari or Sucaria wanted to elaborate, they would. Since, Ari had spoken to Talio about Sucaria remaining in the village, letting her brother Manus raid instead. While Talio was disappointed (and seemed a bit hurt) for a moment, going so far as to suggest that Ari just wanted to protect her, Ari had matter-of-factly said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, I do. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And that had been that. It was obvious how grateful Sucaria herself was. More at ease, she had gone back to hunting with the tribe—and she and her little sister Genovefa had become obsessed with the baby. Now eleven, Genovefa was finally old enough to help, and neither Ari nor Thusnelda complained about having all the extra sets of hands. They were still drained. In part, it was just having the baby—they both had been well aware of how much attention babies needed (Thusnelda had obviously lived much of her life with the resigned belief that she’d be relegated to nothing more than childcare until the day she died) but it had in part been Ari, too. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As good as things had gotten, now without the war, Ari was again having difficulty remaining </span>
  <em>
    <span>here.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He tried to hide it, sometimes, but Thusnelda had long-since been able to notice the way the focus of his gaze would slowly fade as he went still, tension building in his jaw and shoulders as he tried to keep quiet—and if she could, she would come and sit before him, taking his hand and helping him count his breathing, helping him wait through it. He tried to keep himself busy, and there was almost always something to do, but sometimes there just wasn’t enough—or sometimes, a certain slant of light, or a change in the breeze, or a sudden sound would be enough to set it off. She, too, grew nearly exasperated with it, but she knew how frustrated he was—more exhausted with </span>
  <em>
    <span>not here </span>
  </em>
  <span>than angry. For a while, the nights where Thusnelda had to wake him grew more often, and she herself knew she might not have known if the baby hadn’t gotten her up already. Thankfully, she had had no more dreams herself—but more often than either of them would have liked, Thusnelda spent hours with Arnulf in one arm coaxing Ari back into himself with her same rhythmic touch tracing his cheek guiding him to breathe with a near-chant of, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arminius, Ari, you’re here, you’re with me, it is over, </span>
  </em>
  <span>until he could finally remember where he was. They quickly learned, though, that when Arnulf was done with his late-night meals, Thusnelda could hand him to Ari—and as Ari would slowly pace about the room, rocking Arnulf back to sleep humming softly, Ari would again relax, wholly focused on his son. It was good for all of them. Thusnelda was grateful—she needed the sleep herself, and Ari needed a task. Sometimes Thusnelda realized that Ari still carried him and held him even long after Arnulf had settled back down, watching his face as he slept, his own gaze still and unreadable. Thusnelda could still see that it helped. As Arnulf grew, Ari spent much of his little free time in awe of every small thing he did: any new movement, every new sound. He loved every second of it. He only spoke to Arnulf in their own Germanic tongue, but when he thought Thusnelda was asleep or he and the baby were alone, he would sing to him in Latin. She still couldn’t quite understand the words, as her Latin lessons had fallen by the wayside. She didn’t mind. She avoided interrupting. Thusnelda felt the lifting of a weight she hadn’t known she’d carried. She had somehow been worried that when the baby finally came, Ari would see the child and it would really click that it wasn’t his—but it seemed that the thought never once crossed his mind. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Though there were still a few traces of it throughout their home (particularly in how well organized he preferred their space), he had begun to let many of his Roman habits die. If they weren’t still in use or they hadn’t outright gotten rid of them, they’d repurposed the remaining few of his old possessions: his red woolen cloak had even been re-fashioned into a mattress for the bassinet, and when he wasn’t still weekly trimming his hair, the baby had become obsessed with his brass mirror. Thusnelda had wondered if as the year kept turning and time crept on, Ari would let his hair grow out and cease cropping his beard, but she’d been proven wrong: it seemed that he would never shake that habit, at the very least. He still wore the same jewelry, especially what he’d taken from his brother—but some of his own pieces had made their way onto the arms and fingers of Sucaria and Genovefa. He would never get rid of his black-crested helmet, but Thusnelda had not mentioned it the day she noticed a black stripe across the mask. Since the stalemate with Rome at the </span>
  <span>Wesser</span>
  <span>, the deaths of his brother, </span>
  <span>Segestes</span>
  <span>, and </span>
  <span>Irmina</span>
  <span>, and his wholehearted love for their new prince, no one seemed to question it anymore: Ari was no Roman. The more time passed the more it began to feel like he’d never left.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari still allowed Thusnelda almost complete reign over their more political responsibilities. No one seemed to take issue, not even the other reiks: other than the baby, they’d seemed to no longer view her as a woman at all, but more something in between, the way they saw all seers. But already having readily taken over his father's herd of cattle, Ari was still readily seeking and accepting help and advice from others in the village in exchange for his own work with theirs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fons does not mind the work either,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he told Thusnelda one day after they’d been out with the other men in the pastures with their herds. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He enjoys chasing after them, especially since they are not coming back at him with spears. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thusnelda was surprised that at this point, she was so used to hearing of Fons as a person that she caught herself thinking the same way—at </span>
  <span>first</span>
  <span> she was annoyed with it, but the first time she accidentally said “Fons” and not “that horse,” Ari had immediately frozen in place, eyes bright and victorious—but he never spoke a word about her change in opinion. He’d gladly introduced Fons to the baby: the stallion hadn’t quite known what to make of it, the tiny body wiggling in his father’s arms making odd noises, but eventually he’d leaned forward enough to nose him, huffing a hot breath over the baby’s face—the baby also didn’t quite seem to know what to do with it. But Fons was fascinated by the noises Arnulf made, and Ari praised him gladly for his gentleness (not that Fons was a gentle animal; he’d been known to bite those he considered unworthy or those that Ari hadn’t introduced to him, and he only had a few favorite companions out in pasture). But Ari still promised that Arnulf would learn to ride on him, no matter how much bigger Fons was than the rest of their tribe’s horses. Thusnelda decided it wasn’t worth fighting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It took almost two months, but as soon as it was clear that Rome had more or less admitted failure and retreated fully to the other side of the Rhine, Ari began to relax. He was smiling again; laughing and joking (quietly, of course) in the way he had over the winter, before Rome had returned to campaign. As much as things were returning to normal, Thusnelda found that she, too, had picked up Ari's wariness of too much peace—but there was little they could do for the time being. There was no ready threat and Thusnelda hadn’t had any other visions. She supposed she might have brought it on herself: she’d lied, yes, and said that she was a seer, so the gods gave her what she’d claimed. She hoped that maybe next time she saw a nice feast she didn’t have to delegate, or at the very least, a full night’s sleep.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>One night, not long after Rome’s full retreat (rather, they had “regrouped,” Ari phrased it, barely concealing a smirk as </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> laughed) Genovefa begrudgingly surrendered a screaming Arnulf to Thusnelda to nurse. </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> shook her head, saying offhandedly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’ll</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> need the practice with number seven coming—</span>
  </em>
  <span>something that it appeared she also hadn’t mentioned to </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> yet, either—but </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> just shrugged with a laugh as she was suffocated by her husband’s embrace. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, we’ve all been a bit busy, don’t you think? And Little Prince needs a friend. You should appreciate my self-sacrifice, Thusnelda; let it not be said I’m not a good subject thinking of the needs of my Lady and our Little Lord. Can you imagine how lonely he’ll be; a baby with no one to talk to? </span>
  </em>
  <span>While her voice had a touch of aloofness, there was a twinkle in her eye, and she gladly accepted the kisses and exclamations from her overjoyed husband—followed by the squeals and screams from their children as they realized what she’d said. Late summer, about four or five more moons, </span>
  <span>Su</span>
  <span>ev</span>
  <span>a</span>
  <span> said—before harvest, but after midsummer. Thinking on it and realizing that meant </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> had already made it halfway and no one had noticed, Thusnelda had to try her best not to be bitter that, first off, </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> looked no larger than before, and second, that she’d lost no momentum: she’d barely slowed down and showed no signs of constitutional inconvenience. Thusnelda couldn’t quite bring herself to complain, though. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be a joy to have another little one running around, and even if she occasionally wished she’d see someone tinge of green in </span>
  <span>Sueva's</span>
  <span> perpetually nonplussed face, she would never wish what she’d gone through on anyone else. It just might have made her feel a touch less sorry for herself. But she looked no different, and it wasn’t long before the many newlyweds of their tribe began announcing their own newest members. (Ari had been right, too: </span>
  <span>Iestinus</span>
  <span> and the dyer’s daughter were among them.) </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The warm weather had come fine and planting went well, and it seemed that all their replenished livestock felt the same vigor. Everything was growing: after she’d healed enough from childbirth, Thusnelda went back out to work with the rest of the tribe, returning to life that was more or less how she knew it. The only difference now, she supposed, was that there was a baby strapped to her. Young Genovefa, however, did absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>to…lighten her load. More often than not, Arnulf would end up swaddled in a basket at her side, just within earshot of his mother as Genovefa, and to a lesser extent, Sucaria, minded their younger siblings. It was good to have the help. Ari and Thusnelda had no more extended family to speak of, either of them: her mother’s people were well out of the picture and </span>
  <span>Segestes</span>
  <span> had been the only surviving child of his line, and Ari’s only uncle (his mother’s brother) had been killed only a few months before Ari returned to Germania. </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> had never once allowed Thusnelda to worry about a lack of family support, though. She supposed that, even though it was only the two of them, she and Ari now made up most of the extended family for </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> and </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span>, too. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It was now well into afternoon. Thusnelda was pleased that while she was still exhausted all the time (she had to get up at all hours of the night, anyways), she was starting to feel less like she was getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>tired each day and that now, she was just the same amount of tired. Arnulf, however, didn’t seem to care either way: he was nestled happily in his wrap against her chest. As the women made their way back to the hall for their evening meal—Genovefa and Sucaria had gone home ahead to prepare it—Thusnelda and </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> made their way down the road towards home until they heard the steady, gentle rhythm of hooves that meant the men were returning, too. As the came into view, she and </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> spotted their own husbands, who they waved down—Talio dismounted as they grew close, and when Ari met Thusnelda’s gaze, pulling Fons up beside her, he did so with a crooked smile. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you have that look on your face for, Ari?” Thusnelda asked as he reached around to his other side—but she blinked back up at him as he pulled around a small bunch of wildflowers, picked out in pasture. </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> gasped and shoved Thusnelda’s shoulder, making a show of Ari’s gesture—Thusnelda could have blushed. But blushing was Ari’s thing, not hers. “Now what is this for?!” she asked, taking the flowers he handed down to her—feeling awfully young and almost a bit bashful as she did. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s an honest trade, </span>
  <span>cupita</span>
  
  <span>mea</span>
  <span>,” Ari said as he dismounted, reaching out his own arms—Thusnelda laughed when she realized what for. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She gently unslung Arnulf and let Ari lift him out of her hands, immediately forgetting she existed at all and only loosely, </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> pulling his horse back to the hall behind him—or maybe he wasn’t even guiding the horse. Thusnelda was </span>
  <span>fairly sure</span>
  <span> that </span>
  <span>Fons’s</span>
  <span> small glance back at her—could a horse even purposefully glance </span>
  <span>back?—</span>
  <span>had the exasperated expression stating firmly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I suppose I’ll see myself out to pasture, then; I think he’s lost to us. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thusnelda thought she might have to agree. But as she now looked down at the little bundle of wildflowers in her hand, she smiled. She had never thought she’d marry a man who would bring her flowers. “If the other </span>
  <span>reiks</span>
  <span> knew...” she mumbled, shaking her head. Laughing to herself, she caught up with Ari as Sueva and Talio broke off for their own home.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Back in earshot, she realized that Ari was now telling Arnulf all about his day, and asked Arnulf for his own report—the baby made a gurgling, cooing noise as he wiggled in his swaddling, and Ari nodded seriously. “That certainly sounds like quite the event,” he told the baby. “I will pray that tomorrow is less taxing on you.” Arnulf’s response was just about as nuanced as one could assume from a baby not quite two months old, but Ari nodded sagely, glancing back up at Thusnelda (who it seemed he only now realized was at his side again), another lopsided smile spreading over his face. “He has been telling me about your day together.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <span>he's probably</span>
  <span> blowing it all out of proportion, and he has had a terrible view of the whole thing. He wasn’t even awake for most of it, and he spent much of the rest almost nowhere near me. You can ask Genovefa. He might be lying to you.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we’ll blame Genovefa for the whole thing, won’t we?” Ari said down at the baby. Arnulf’s response was inconclusive. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Blame her for what?” Sucaria </span>
  <span>said</span>
  <span> as they passed her by on their way into the hall. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever the baby said she did,” Thusnelda said drily. Ari laughed and handed Sucaria the baby so he could untack and brush down Fons. Ari ignored whatever else was said as he turned his attention then to the horse alone</span>
  <em>
    <span>,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and through Thusnelda’s broken Latin, she was able to understand the standard praises, thanks, and complements that Ari passed over to his stallion as he worked. “Gods, I suppose he still loves </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, Horse. </span>
  </em>
  <span>What am I going to do with that man?” she asked under her breath as she made her way back to their private chambers. But the gushing from Genovefa and her younger sister about the flowers in her basket made her forget about any performative annoyance she might have had.  </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The rhythm they’d settled into was secure and comfortable. Ari began bringing her flowers with enough sporadic regularity that it was always a bit of a surprise when he did it—enough to be unexpected, but still often enough to make a pattern. She began to dry many of them and chain them through their home. Their home was a living thing, now: when she’d moved in after their wedding, it had been downright austere. Segimer had barely seemed to be living within it, by the end. She had felt strange cutting the plaid from the loom—dusty and untouched for years—and Ari had walked in while she was doing so, and he’d stood in silence in the doorway as she did, watching her as she trimmed the remaining warp. As she held it in her hands, she found herself walking to his side, and she gently folded it, placing it in his hands. She remembered his breath hitching as he grasped it, eyes far-off, and she rested her hand on his shoulder, smiling as gently as she could—he returned it shyly, not meeting her eyes, but she saw the gleam of tears that were threatening to come to his own. But as she unwound and re-warped the loom, he sat and watched, ignoring whatever other duties he’d had at hand, eventually wordlessly getting up to hand her the warp weights as she went. When she was </span>
  <span>finished</span>
  <span> they both looked at her work and he finally took a small breath, still clutching tightly to the square of his mother’s weaving in his own hands. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I like the blue, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d said quietly. She nodded. It was all he’d said before he left, turning to place the cloth on the small table he’d seemed to be turning into a small altar. But the loom was alive, the stacks of bowls from feeding two families were conspicuous near the hearth, the new baskets and furniture—many wedding gifts, some necessary additions to replace the old and broken that Segimer had never gotten around to fixing were bright and freshly hewn, and there was light and laughter that Thusnelda knew wouldn’t quiet for years.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t help but smile at the </span>
  <span>thought.</span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think! I'll update here in the next few days, maybe--or maybe I'll get excited and do it tomorrow. We'll see! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The Longing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter Warning: Smut. If that's not your thing, you can skip this chapter--there's no other exposition/plot.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was now long into dusk, and </span>
  <span>Ari, Thusnelda, </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span>, and the children had finished eating. It seemed that it was rare these days for any sort of evening meal to happen in </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> and </span>
  <span>Sueva’s</span>
  <span> house: there was just much more room here in the hall for the children to disperse and run themselves out. </span>
  <span>At least Arnulf was turning out to be a remarkably easygoing child—which made everyone's lives that much easier as he was passed from arm to arm throughout the day</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>He never seemed to mind all that much. </span>
  <span>Thusnelda </span>
  <span>decided that he’d probably gotten all his fussing out while she’d carried him, and she secretly hoped that it would all be smooth sailing from here on out. </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> had seemed to agree. Now, the three of them </span>
  <span>were sitting at the head of the hall while </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> roughhoused with </span>
  <span>a few of the middle children</span>
  <span>, Ari </span>
  <span>and Sucaria </span>
  <span>laughing as </span>
  <span>they</span>
  <span> watched,</span>
  <span> with Ari</span>
  <span> calling out pointers for </span>
  <span>Talio’s</span>
  <span> assailants</span>
  <span>—which </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> was quite vocal that he did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>appreciate, saying, “Then get in here and </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>can try!” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> laughed outright, especially as some of the children took their father’s lead and tried to goad Ari into it</span>
  <span> (they knew better than to try to antagonize their eldest sister),</span>
  <span> but he rose his hands in dismissal, leaning back against </span>
  <span>a</span>
  
  <span>post</span>
  <span>. The children seemed frustrated that he wasn’t willing to join, but a sudden smile broke out on his face before Ari called, “Quick, now! His back is turned!” and </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  
  <span>yelped as he </span>
  <span>was again overtaken by his numerous opponents—their laughter nearly drowning out his as they dogpiled their father. Thusnelda, though, was only watching Ari. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Early that morning, she’d walked </span>
  <span>into the private chambers</span>
  <span> to Ari sitting before his propped-up mirror, shirt discarded on the bedding behind him</span>
  <span> as he shaved and trimmed his beard</span>
  <span>, angling his face back and forth as he worked. As Thusnelda watched him expertly run the blade across his skin, she was somehow transfixed. She didn’t often see him so single-mindedly focused on such a small task, hands moving in practiced patterns as he made short work of the endeavor</span>
  <span>—he tended to do it first thing in the morning, before she had gotten up.</span>
  <span> When he finally bent down to rinse his face, running his fingers across his cheeks, chin, and neck to check his work, Thusnelda couldn’t help but follow their movements</span>
  <span>...or the movement of a few rivulets of water that were trailing down his neck and </span>
  <span>well-built</span>
  <span> chest</span>
  <span>, caught in the light of the mirror.</span>
  <span> As he’d reached for a cloth to dry </span>
  <span>his </span>
  <span>skin</span>
  
  <span>he’d</span>
  <span> glanced up to meet her gaze, she’d felt an unexpected heat rise through her—and it took her a moment to realize that there was a flush growing on his cheeks, too. Suddenly his gaze wavered, beginning to wander downward, but he blinked as if he was trying to shake off an impact. He patted his face and neck dry but when he stood, he did not reach for his shirt. Instead, he reached for her: one hand at the small of her back and the other threading through her </span>
  <span>still-unbound</span>
  <span> hair before he bent down for a light, lingering kiss. While </span>
  <span>they</span>
  <span> had </span>
  <span>relished in closeness </span>
  <span>since the baby</span>
  <span> and he had done everything he could to care for her</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>they had done little more than kissed or </span>
  <span>help</span>
  <span> each other bathe</span>
  <span>, save for the single time—</span>
  <span>only days</span>
  <span> after he’d returned from war</span>
  <span>—that Thusnelda had taken it upon herself to show her own appreciation to Ari. He had never once asked for it since, and at the time, she had wanted nothing herself.</span>
  <span> This time, </span>
  <span>there was something in </span>
  <span>the contact</span>
  <span> that </span>
  <span>left</span>
  <span> Thusnelda</span>
  <span> burning</span>
  <span>—even as Ari let go, his eyes </span>
  <span>were </span>
  <span>dark and feverish</span>
  <span> as he turned back to finish getting dressed.</span>
  <span> He’d left for the day with a quick “</span>
  <span>te</span>
  
  <span>amo</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>cupita</span>
  <span> mea,” kissing her cheek, and that had been the end of it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, if you’re feeling ready to get back in the saddle, it’s been long enough.” Thusnelda nearly jumped when </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> spoke, staring frankly back at her. Thusnelda made a face, but still didn’t look away from her husband.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it that obvious?” Thusnelda didn’t need to look at </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> to know she was rolling her eyes. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re making me blush just sitting here, you are; do you know that? And I know you</span>
  <span>; </span>
  <span>you two haven’t</span>
  <span> been at it </span>
  <span>since the whole ‘war and babies’ thing settled out, have you?” When Thusnelda glanced over at her but kept her silence, </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> pursed her lips and nodded. “That’s about what I thought.” Thusnelda sighed, looking down at Arnulf in her arms.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just been...busy.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it gets busy and it stays busy. No stopping </span>
  <span>any</span>
  <span> of that.” </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> watched her, calculating. “Tell you what. Give him to me tonight. You said it yourself, Arnulf has slept through the night almost every night this week, and I don’t think it much matters to any of us if we wake up to a screaming baby; </span>
  <span>we’ve done it before and </span>
  <span>we’re doing</span>
  <span> it </span>
  <span>again. Best to give everyone some practice.</span>
  <span> You and Ari haven’t had a moment to yourselves in months.” Thusnelda opened her mouth, trying to think of an argument, but </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> rose an eyebrow when nothing came. “See? That’s what I thought. </span>
  <span>Now finish feeding</span>
  <span> that baby, then hand him over</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  <span> When Thusnelda looked back at her, both </span>
  <span>gobsmacked</span>
  <span> and thankful, </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> waved her hand </span>
  <span>before</span>
  <span> jutting an accusatory finger at the baby. “Thusnelda, just make sure you two work on being quiet, alright? Nothing ends it faster than </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>could.”</span>
  
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure? </span>
  <span>Do you have</span>
  <span> everything you—</span>
  <span>”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>All</span>
  <span> of us more or less live in both of our houses at once. </span>
  <span>‘Course </span>
  <span>I’ve got everything I’ll need there. If he does end up waking up, I’ll knock on the front door in here. I know where to find you, and I know how to take care of your baby.</span>
  <span>”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When Arnulf was finished not too long later, </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> clapped her hands for attention. “Everybody out! Bedtime! Homeward we go!” The children knew better than to argue with their mother, and </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> shook his head, </span>
  <span>sending</span>
  <span> a withering glance </span>
  <span>towards</span>
  <span> Ari for his lack of </span>
  <span>support</span>
  <span> in the evening’s battles. When Thusnelda handed Arnulf to </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> as she walked up to the door, though, both men shot each other confused glances until </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> turned back. “One of the girls will bring him in the morning. Just be done by then, if you please.” </span>
  <span>She winked and locked arms with </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span>, tugging him out with her when the last child had disappeared into the night.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari turned to Thusnelda, an odd look on his face. “Where did you send our baby?” Thusnelda laughed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t send him anywhere. </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> stole him outright.”</span>
  <span> Ari</span>
  <span> nodded slowly, eyes narrowing.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And you just let some woman steal </span>
  <span>our</span>
  <span> baby?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda stepped forward and took his hand, guiding him back to their private chambers. “She seemed to think that the baby’s parents haven’t had a moment’s peace with just each other in a few months.” When she glanced back to look at him, she saw it beginning to dawn on him. “She’s right, Ari.</span>
  
  <span>Corpus meus </span>
  <span>calorem</span>
  
  <span>tuum</span>
  
  <span>desideravit</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  <span>1</span>
  <span> Thusnelda unpinned </span>
  <span>the wrap across</span>
  <span> his shoulders</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> l</span>
  <span>aying it on the bench near the door. As she spoke the words in Latin, his eyes flicked to hers. She was pleased at the sudden flush coming to his cheeks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I have missed you as well, Nelda.” He reached up and loosened her hairnet, guiding her hair down her shoulders </span>
  <span>as he bent down </span>
  <span>to kiss her cheek. </span>
  <span>He</span>
  <span> twined</span>
  <span> his fingers </span>
  <span>into her hair again</span>
  <span>, twisting his grip and tugging ever so slightly, watching as her lips parted with a small gasp—</span>
  <span>but</span>
  <span> he stopped. He released her hair and cupped her cheek in his hand</span>
  <span> to pull</span>
  <span> her against him. “But only if you are ready.” Thusnelda met his gaze and slid her hands beneath his shirt to graze the tender skin of his back with her nails and was delighted at the way she felt him react. He closed his eyes at the touch and with their closeness as she pressed herself against him, Thusnelda felt the subtle shift and hardness growing even through their clothes. She smiled, one hand reaching downward to trace </span>
  <span>the growing</span>
  
  <span>outline of his length.</span>
  <span> He shuddered.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem ready enough.” Ari glanced down at her, and she was suddenly reminded of their wedding night—how he awkwardly looked away, trying to keep eye contact just as trying to ignore her and his own body completely—and failing gloriously.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you are</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span>”</span>
  <span> he repeated.</span>
  <span> She couldn’t help but smile, leaning forward to peck a kiss on his jaw. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Come with me to bed, Ari.” He didn’t have to be asked twice—instead, she squealed as he crushed his lips to hers, sliding an arm beneath her knees and lifting her into the air to carry her to their bedding before gently settling her against the pelts beneath </span>
  <span>them. </span>
  <span>As they kissed deeply, Thusnelda raked her nails across his neck </span>
  <span>and back</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
  <span>Hi</span>
  <span>s small moan sent shocks through her</span>
  <span> and he nipped her lip.</span>
  
  <span>She couldn’t take it any longer</span>
  <span>. She tugged at his shirt and it was soon over his head and in a heap on the floor</span>
  <span> as Ari unpinned</span>
  <span> her dress </span>
  <span>at the shoulders, throwing the fibulas to the ground with a clatter and tugging the chiton down to her waist. He pulled her upwards into his lap and kissed across her bare chest, biting across her collarbone, sucking the skin gently and leaving behind a trail of dull red marks as Thusnelda worked to untie her belt, letting her dress fall down until it caught on her hips. Thusnelda gasped as he wound his hand tight into her hair and her hips ground into his—and she realized with some annoyance that there were still layers between them. </span>
  <span>She shimmied out of her loosened dress, toeing it onto the floor beneath them, and she helped Ari guide down his trousers</span>
  
  <span>until they were both bare</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>and for</span>
  
  <span>a</span>
  
  <span>moment, they</span>
  <span> were lost in </span>
  <span>it. Their kisses stilled and their breathing, </span>
  <span>as heavy as it had become, </span>
  <span>slowed and </span>
  <span>deepened</span>
  <span> as they each took in the </span>
  <span>sight and sensation</span>
  <span> of each other. </span>
  <span>A</span>
  <span>ri’s hands clutched at her sides and back, tracing and feeling every plane of her ribs, back, and shoulders, just as hers did to his. </span>
  <span>He bent his head </span>
  <span>down against her and </span>
  <span>gripped her tighter as his kisses trailed back to her neck—and she decided that she’d had enough waiting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“On your back,” she purred, her hands now pressing on his shoulders as she leaned against him,</span>
  
  <span>pushing him beneath her</span>
  <span>. She felt him melting at the words as he followed her direction,</span>
  
  <span>breath quickening</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> settling still a</span>
  <span>nd </span>
  <span>on his back as she curled herself against him. </span>
  <span>“We have to be quiet, Ari,” Thusnelda said, nipping his neck. He shivered, gasping. </span>
  <span>“That’s not something we’ve practiced before, is it?” </span>
  <span>His lips parted in his regular crooked smile.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I will try,” Thusnelda laughed deviously, biting down again, harder. He clutched at the </span>
  <span>furs</span>
  <span> beneath them, breathing ragged.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No trying. You will be quiet, </span>
  <span>Domine</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  <span> She pulled away to meet his eyes. They were dark and desperate as he stared up at her</span>
  <span>—smile gone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I will be quiet.” She pulled away farther, sitting up and straddling his hips. Not quite gently, she dragged her nails across his chest, down to his ribs and the plane of his abdomen. She rested them across the ridges of his hips, tracing the contour of the V downward with an impossible lightness that made his eyes clench shut. His breath hitching, the beginnings of a moan died quickly in his throat—and a not-quite-wicked smile played across </span>
  <span>Thusnelda’s</span>
  <span> lips. She leaned over him again, her hair curtaining over her shoulders, before she traced the angle of his jaw with a fingertip. She felt his hand move slowly up her thigh and take hold of her hip, almost as if he was afraid to let go. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“A</span>
  <span>ri</span>
  <span>,” she nearly breathed his name, lips hovering over his</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> painfully close. “I know it’s been some time since we’ve practiced my Latin...I have forgotten. How is it that you ask </span>
  <span>‘please’</span>
  <span>, again?” Ari shuddered against her. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not—” his voice was nearly hoarse as he whispered back. “There is not quite a word for ‘please,’” he gasped as she ground her hips against him, </span>
  <span>ever so slightly teasing his length as she very nearly slid across it, </span>
  <span>his eyes screwing shut. “</span>
  <span>Te</span>
  
  <span>oro</span>
  <span>,” he finally said, trying to slow his breathing. Thusnelda smiled. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And if not quite please, then ‘</span>
  <span>te</span>
  
  <span>oro</span>
  <span>’ means...?” He opened his eyes, leveling them on hers—pleading.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I beg of you.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda almost purred. “You beg?” she nuzzled his neck, suddenly nipping down on the tender skin at the edge of his shoulder.  “What do you beg me for, </span>
  <span>amica</span>
  
  <span>mea</span>
  <span>?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You,</span>
  <span>” he whispered. </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Please—</span>
  <span>r</span>
  <span>equiro</span>
  
  <span>te</span>
  
  <span>potiri</span>
  <span>.  Oro </span>
  <span>ut</span>
  <span> mea </span>
  <span>es</span>
  <span>,</span>
  
  <span>Nelda</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>cupita</span>
  <span> mea</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>te</span>
  
  <span>oro</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> let me have you.”</span>
  <span>2</span>
  
  
</p><p>
  <span>Her fingers trailed back down his chest, hand between them as she took hold of him, fingers slowly wrapping around the base of his cock and teasing a light, bare stroke, lingering and agonizing. He bit down hard on his lower lip, cutting off a breathless noise of pleasure. She reached up with her free hand and brushed her thumb across his jaw as he let go, his lips parting with a shallow breath—she traced the contour of his cheek, back to his jaw, and down to the arc of his throat. He swallowed. His eyes were locked on her. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Nelda,” he whispered. When she pulled back and sat up, his grip on her thigh shifted and he slid his other arm beneath her knee. Thusnelda realized that the slight pressure against her legs now was his plea to pull her upwards—and she shifted, allowing him to guide her hips towards him. As he slid his arm beneath her and pulled her close, supporting her weight and kissing from her knee and to the flat of her thigh, clutching at her hips and as his kisses grew more lingering, she welcomed the rush of blood to her ears and the heat that was rising at her center. As Ari placed one last light kiss at the crook of her hip, she reached down and threaded her fingers through his hair—and agonizingly slowly, he turned into her, placing one kiss just beneath her curls, she gasped—and as his grip on her hips shifted her upwards, his tongue traced once through her folds as he met her gaze, a bare groan escaping him at her taste. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, Thusnelda had forgotten—she had forgotten the way he held and craved her, just as she desperately needed him—but as he devoured her, she could no longer form coherent thought. She didn’t stifle her own broken moan as he shifted, reaching upwards to play a hand across her breast; she couldn’t have if she’d tried. Suddenly, she was too lost within him. Her fist knotted in his hair went loose, unable to guide him—at least, unable to guide him better than he was doing on his own, and Thusnelda could have laughed as she realized </span>
  <span>everything</span>
  <span> he knew he’d learned under her direction. Gods above and below, was he a good study. She found herself sinking, placeless, groundless but for him, his arms, his hands, his mouth, his tongue as he tasted her as deeply as he could, and she couldn’t help as her hips tensed and thrust forward of their own instinct—he held her tighter, moaning into her, bringing her closer as he took a hold of her buttocks and held her agonizingly still. Her body struggled against it, and she could not bring herself to fight it, whimpering as she let him. She fell forwards, barely able to hold herself upright as she tried to steady herself with one arm, loosely tying her fingers back into his hair and watching him, his eyes closed and savoring her pleasure as he gave it to her—as she gave in. Only him. Only them—only what he gave her; what he drew from her. “Ari,” she breathed, her voice </span>
  <span>weak</span>
  <span>; his name a prayer on her lips—and as his eyes opened, dark, fierce, wanting, deep with devotion and command, humming across her, into her, she was undone. She could not hold back her slurred scream, bucking against him as he held her fast, licking, sucking, continuing his worship as she rode through her ecstasy, and as she came </span>
  <span>down</span>
  <span> he continued still—she whimpered, mewled; her body rippling against him as he still kissed and she cried out—oversensitive, in agony, it was too much—and she fell forward against him, collapsing as her body gave out through her orgasm. As his tongue tormented her still, she couldn’t respond but to moan weakly, her hips trembling as he rolled her to her back, and finally, terribly, his kisses slowed and lightened, he finally let her hips free. He kissed her </span>
  <span>centre</span>
  <span> one last time, one final, light stroke of his tongue sending one last shock through her, and he trailed his kisses upwards and crouched over her, his lips meeting hers roughly as he guided her mouth open, hand cradling her neck. She responded deeply and sloppily. He growled into her lips, clutching hard at her side and tangling his fingers in her hair. As he finally pulled away, he pressed their foreheads together, heaving for breath—satisfied in his own way. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thusnelda,” he breathed, leaning down to place a light kiss at the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her ear, before he pulled back and het her gaze. “Regina </span>
  <span>mea</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>te</span>
  
  <span>amo</span>
  <span>.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She tried to respond, but her lips could not work. They could form no words. When she tried to speak, it was a half moan—and she didn’t know what she had tried to say, but what came out was, “Ari, I need you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed against her, kissing her neck. “How do you need me, </span>
  <span>cupita</span>
  
  <span>mea</span>
  <span>?” She pushed him back, tracing his neck. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I want—I want us to hold each other. I want us together.” Ari brushed his thumb across her cheek. As she pressed gently to his shoulders, he let her guide him, sitting him back as she drew herself up, and she drew herself to settle across his lap. As she did so, their eyes met, and Ari braced one hand on the bedding to steady himself and clasped the other across the back of her torso, steadying her in turn. She took a slow breath as she watched his face: his lips and cheeks were flushed and his eyes were dark and yearning—she was sure she looked the same, bloomed as she was from cumming, her hair surely wild and her body still shaking. But she reached forward and clasped his shoulders, and slowly, smoothly, she took him into her, gasping at the tightness, savoring every inch of him; memorizing the way his lips parted in a ragged pant just as her own did, the way his fingers suddenly clenched against her, the way she saw her own hands do the same as her nails began to dig into his smooth skin. For a moment, they held together, stone still—both of them dumbstruck by each other, savoring the feeling of wholeness that came over them, barely able to breathe as Thusnelda’s body relaxed around him. Ari finally managed a shallow breath, reaching up to brush the hair from her face, his fingers trembling as he traced the scar down her cheek. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda’s breath shook as his hand traced down from her neck down to her side, and as he took a hold of her hip, she managed to respond. “I love you.” He tightened his </span>
  <span>grip</span>
  <span> and he guided her hips, lifting her up before pulling her hard against him, deep into her, pacing her, leading their rhythm as they rocked together—she soon found her body taking over. She clutched desperately at his shoulders as she braced against him and he pulled her hips harder, and finally he slipped altogether, falling back against the bedding as she rode him, hands splayed across his chest, his eyes rolled shut as he called her name, his hands loose on her thighs as he lost his grip—too deep in pleasure to remember to keep any silence. She didn’t care. His voice rang breathy and deep as he called to her, urged her on—she watched him as he writhed beneath her, willing, wanting; hers alone. The sight filled her. He clutched desperately at all of her he could reach, her name on his lips, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thusnelda, oh gods, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>amica</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>mea</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>tū</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> es </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>perfectio</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, I love you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>when suddenly he opened his eyes, dark and wanting, taking her by the waist and pulled her down, kissing her </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard, </span>
  </em>
  <span>rolling her onto her back and hooking her legs over his as he thrust back into her—releasing their kiss and burying his face into her neck, kissing, sucking, biting as he took her, bracing her shoulders down as he lifted her up, and now it was Thusnelda who would no longer be silent. She could barely form words, could barely speak his name; </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ari, Ari, Oh Arminius, My Ari, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and suddenly his thrusts </span>
  <span>slowed</span>
  <span> and he settled against her, taking her into his arms as she took him into hers—collecting himself as he pulled back. “Ari, please, I need you,” she breathed into his cheek, fingers raking against his shoulders—he couldn’t help the near-whimper as his hips bucked forward, but he pulled back and slowly, he drew out of her completely—now it was Thusnelda who made a frustrated gasp, pushing him away as her eyes burned back at him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to last,” he whispered with trembling breath, pressing their foreheads together as he rolled his hips forward, the tip of his cock tracing against her center, slowly drawing himself across her, not quite in a rhythm—more, perhaps, his body desperate to keep contact. She couldn’t help her shudder. “I need to have all of you I can, </span>
  <span>regina</span>
  
  <span>mea</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span>” He placed a light kiss at the corner of her mouth, dropping his head against her. “</span>
  <span>Te</span>
  
  <span>oro</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>carrissima</span>
  
  <span>mea</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>te</span>
  
  <span>amo</span>
  <span>.” </span>
  <span>Thusnelda gently pushed him away, far enough to see his face. His lips were flushed with kisses and her eyes wandered over the pink lines of scratches that wound down from his shoulders. His desperate eyes were locked on hers, wanting, pleading, as he again said, “Anything. All of you.” She was overcome. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Then on your knees, </span>
  <span>Domine</span>
  <span>,” she purred. He pulled back, his hands tracing across her as he pulled away—she followed, crouching forward, her own hands tracing his thighs as she followed the ridges of his muscles, crouching down, and he cried out weakly, hands now on her shoulders, as she bent over him and barely ghosted the tip of her tongue across the head of his cock. She looked back up at him, taking in the sight of the ridge of his throat as he breathed, eyes rolled up and chest heaving with desperate breath. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“By </span>
  <span>Freyer</span>
  <span>,” he gasped weakly, and she flicked her eye upwards.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Swearing by your own gods, Ari?” she said lightly, taking him into her mouth and sucking downward, tracing up the bottom of his shaft with her tongue as she came back up. He shuddered. “I’ve never heard that out of your mouth.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I have—” His voice broke off as she took him in again, slowly pacing as she swallowed him as deep as she could. He couldn’t seem to form any sort of full words. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, Ari, you are so much more talkative than usual when I have you. Have you forgotten that you are supposed to be quiet?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me,” he said through clenched teeth. “I cannot think when you—” his voice broke off as she took him into her mouth once again. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“When I what?”</span>
  
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You told me to be quiet,” the corner of his mouth turned up almost into a smile, and Thusnelda hummed a laugh around him as he reached upwards and tangled his fingers in her hair. He let her set her own pace—agonizingly slowly, swallowing him deep, then lighter and quicker as he loosely knotted his fingers in her wild hair, until Thusnelda felt his legs again tighten, his fingers tensing as he tugged her hair tighter. “Wait,” he begged. She pulled away. “Please, I want—Nelda, I want </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He reached down and drawing up her shoulders. “I can’t finish—I want to finish in you.” The words made her burn as he grasped tightly to her arms, pulling her up and close to him, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that deepened as he tipped them back onto her back, pulling her into his arms. “I need to come inside of you. I need you.  I don’t care if we can’t have our own—my own—child yet, but I need to know you carry my own seed.” She couldn’t help the heat that ran through her as he said it. He kissed her again, in a line from her lips to her cheek, his lips now ghosting over her ear as he whispered. “</span>
  <span>Te</span>
  
  <span>oro</span>
  <span>, Thusnelda. I need to love you.” Thusnelda turned him to face her, cupping his cheeks in her hands. For more than a moment, she was amazed at the way he looked back at her—like she was the only solid ground in his world. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How was I so blessed with you? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She thought, reaching up and brushing back his raven hair. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What could I have ever done to deserve you?” she asked quietly. He blinked back at her, and the heady flush on his cheeks deepened—into a real blush. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shy again, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thusnelda thought as she laughed softly, shaking her head as she traced his arm and shoulder, lingering across the knot of white scar. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I could ask the same, my love.” Their eyes lingered on each other's until suddenly one of them ever so slightly shifted their hips—Ari shuddered as his bucked forward in reflexive response, his body breaking their silence.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Then love me, Ari.” He kissed her. As she wound her legs up around him, guiding his hips forward as he lined himself up, gently thrusting back into her, he kissed her, holding her as she held him. He loved her slowly, deeply, and gently, and Thusnelda was utterly lost within him and his touch, one with him and their body, and there was nothing else but for the way he touched her, the way she held to him, and Thusnelda felt it as again, his body and breath tightened, his thrusts slow and deep until finally, he couldn’t hold back. Cursing, pleading her name, and whispering </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he came, she felt him finish, spilling deep inside her; she pressed their foreheads against each other, relishing in the sound of his even, desperate breathing as it matched her own. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed silent and still together for a long time, Ari’s head nestled into her neck and hers on his shoulder, her fingers tracing long lines up and down his back as his wound through her hair. They savored what last tides of ecstasy had a hold of them until Ari finally drew himself up and met her gaze, gently brushing the hair out of her face and cupping her cheek in his hand. Thusnelda loved the way he looked still flushed and sated, the long red ridges of scratches that she’d drug down his shoulders (a few had bled, she realized only now), more proof of his sincere willingness to give himself to her. She knew that even though they’d sting, he loved them just as much as she would love the bloom of </span>
  <span>love marks</span>
  <span> he had left on her—but as his soft eyes drank her in, he leaned down to kiss her, saying, “</span>
  <span>Te</span>
  
  <span>amo</span>
  <span>, Nelda,” and rolled off to her side, taking her hand. When she turned to face him, he watched her face for a long moment with a soft smile—until a mischievous gleam suddenly leapt into his eyes. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How was that?” Thusnelda couldn’t help but laugh as she grabbed the nearest wad of bedding, throwing it at his head—and he too devolved into laughter as he took her back into his arms, kissing her—but he couldn’t keep a straight face, instead breaking away to trail kisses down her neck as she traced a finger down his ticklish side—his startled yelp made her laugh even harder. They couldn’t help it. When had they had this last? When had they had this </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever? </span>
  </em>
  <span>They had gone from marriage of convenience to learning how to love, then horrific pregnancy, then baby—and had they ever gotten the chance to truly have each other?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As exhausted and spent as they were, they lay in each other's arms for hours longer, just talking, quietly thanking all gods that they knew of (Ari went down a list of more he’d learned of in his travels, just so Thusnelda could thank them too) that they had a chance at each other. Things were normal now. They were safe within the family that they’d gathered, they were happy, and they loved each other. What more did they need?</span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>**Latin Definitions**<br/>Again, courtesy Eastern_Lights! You are a fabulous human, and I thank you most sincerely!</p><p>"...Corpus meus calorem tuum desideravit." -- "...My body has longed for your warmth."</p><p>"Please--requiro te potiri. Oro ut mea es, Nelda, cupita mea, te oro, let me have you." -- "Please--I need to have you. I beg that you be mine, Nelda, my beloved, I beg of you, let me have you."</p><p>"Regina mea, te amo." -- "My queen, I love you."</p><p>"Thusnelda, oh gods, amica mea, tū es perfectio, ..." -- "Thusnelda, oh gods, my love, you are perfection, ..."</p><p>"Carissima mea" -- my dearest/most beloved</p><p> </p><p>Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think, and I'll catch you next chapter! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Chance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter Warnings: Suggestive Content, Violence</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  
  <span>Hadgan</span>
  <span> returned, bloodied and livid, from the raid that was supposed to ensure the theft of Thusnelda, Folkwin had quickly known everything had gone wrong. He had disappeared the first chance he got after that. He hadn’t trusted their unwieldy coalition in the first place but for the word of </span>
  <span>Irmina</span>
  <span>, and even (perhaps especially) that was disconcerting, but he was not about to put his life in </span>
  <span>Hadgan’s</span>
  <span> hands. The </span>
  <span>Chatti</span>
  <span> didn’t go looking for him. He knew that he was of little more use to </span>
  <span>Hadgan</span>
  <span> himself, but also that </span>
  <span>Hadgan</span>
  <span> didn’t view him as any sort of threat—which he figured was fine. He only had one purpose here, anyways, and the more time passed, the easier he hoped it would become. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone had heard the story of the birth of Reik Arminius and Lady Thusnelda’s heir: just as the battle with Rome at the Wesser began, Thusnelda’s father had tried to kidnap her from her bed in the middle of the night—but she’d beaten him back into the village, where he’d been killed by a village girl. Somehow, word got to Arminius at the front just as Rome had issued orders for their forces to retreat. Arminius had somehow managed to make it back to the village just in time for the birth, handing off command of the </span>
  <span>Cherusci</span>
  <span> to his first swordsman, Talio, his former mercenary captain—but the man (Germanic as well, from farther west but having since been welcomed into the </span>
  <span>Cherusci</span>
  <span> tribe) was by now well respected by the tribes. The baby had been born and named Arnulf, blessed on the equinox not only with the traditional sacrifices but with the blood of his grandmother, given to the gods and taken to the bog as penance for her and her husband’s </span>
  <span>treache</span>
  <span>ry. Folkwin had smiled at the irony when he had heard. He had since done his best not to know anything else about the baby, trying to forget that it had a name at all.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He had not been back to the Marcomanni lands. The longer this took, the more it hurt—he had been away for four moons by now, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. </span>
  <span>Raskild</span>
  <span> was waiting, and every time he closed his eyes, he heard her voice or laugh, and he dreamed of her often. She probably did the same of him. As Midsummer crept closer, his will finally began to crumble. He had been watching his old village as the spring grew on and he was surprised at how easily new patterns had been settled on within it—many had died, but there were many new faces in town: from Arminius’s former mercenaries to their wives and children. Folkwin did take a bit of comfort that his own home was occupied by Bilius, who he had known since childhood. Bilius was a good man. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As he had watched the comings and goings of the villagers and the tribe, it had been bewildering seeing Arminius and Thusnelda happily living their lives without him. Thusnelda wore blue now, and her hair was almost always bound in its cap; Arminius looked inseparable from the other men of the tribe. When he’d first come to the outskirts of the village to spy for himself, he hadn’t recognized the laughing, bearded man sparring playfully with a redheaded village boy (where had all the redheads come from?!) as Arminius, and it had been even more surreal as a redheaded woman and Thusnelda had come outside with a baby in her arms—Arminius immediately calling for a pause and dropping his stick, gladly taking the baby from Thusnelda and not quite turning to speak with the other woman—more angling himself to almost towards her, if he hadn’t been beaming down at the bundle he held in his arms. Thusnelda had instead lunged to grab the fallen stick, going after the boy herself—the redheaded woman, presumably the boy’s mother, cackling and calling out something about being prepared for surprise opponents. As the days came and went and he watched his old tribe go about their lives, it began to make it easier. He listened in however he could—sometimes close enough that he worried he’d be seen—but whether no one cared or </span>
  <span>no one was</span>
  <span> worried, he’d gone unnoticed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>At first he’d been appalled when he overheard Thusnelda teasing Arminius with the name “Dominie” as she dragged him in through the back door to their hall, and he’d felt much the same when Arminius showered her with his own pet names in Latin—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cupita</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> Mea, Carissima Mea, Regina Mea</span>
  </em>
  <span>—he hated how he began to remember them, whatever they meant, and he hated how he called her </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nelda </span>
  </em>
  <span>just as much—and even more so when he heard the redheaded family doing the same. Ari brought her flowers more often than Folkwin would have thought necessary, trading them for the baby the second he rode back into the village, and he’d barely hand him over the rest of the night—unless one of the redheaded girls demanded it or if it was hungry. Thusnelda played jokes—Folkwin was almost sure they could be misconstrued as “pranks” if she weren’t a noble lady, wife of the </span>
  <span>reik</span>
  <span>—and did her best to make him laugh (and she was always successful). </span>
  <em>
    <span>They’re acting like children, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Folkwin had thought, disgusted, watching the two of them with Talio and his wife as they made their way back to the hall after a long day. Thusnelda squealed as Ari had suddenly dropped his armload of firewood and scooped her up to throw her over his shoulder, taking her inside, but Thusnelda’s playful screaming quickly devolved into laughter alongside the others as they disappeared through the open doorway, surrounded by a gaggle of redheaded children, one of the girls carrying the baby, like usual. Their love for each other was impossible to miss—seeing it so close and unrestrained had hurt at first. The more Folkwin saw and heard, though, the less he felt. But one night, it was too much.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been tucked back in the trees behind the hall after a day of following the movements of the </span>
  <span>tribesfolk</span>
  <span> when Arminius and Thusnelda had suddenly appeared from around the side of the hall, leading their horses to the paddock. Arminius turned them out, refilling their manger, but Folkwin watched from the darkness as Arminius hopped the fence back to </span>
  <span>Thusnelda’s</span>
  <span> side. As he came close, he reached up and unbound her hair—but when it was freed and smoothed down her shoulders, Thusnelda pushed Arminius to his knees, taking his chin in her hand and speaking to him in a voice too low for Folkwin to hear as the </span>
  <span>reik</span>
  <span> gazed up at her, still and attentive before he quietly responded. Thusnelda nodded, smiling darkly, and bent down to kiss him, but as she straightened back up, Arminius reached for her, gently guiding her to lean back against the wall of their hall—and he slowly, tenderly, reverently guided her leg to settle over his shoulder as he supported her weight, trailing kisses from her knee to up her thigh as he inched the hem of her dress upwards and </span>
  <span>Thusnelda’s</span>
  <span> fingers wound into his hair, head falling back—but Folkwin had turned away to the sound of </span>
  <span>Thusnelda's</span>
  <span> breathy moan, disappearing as silently as he could, sick to his stomach. But what else should he expect?  These were not the people he knew. Thusnelda had moved on, so had he. Everyone he knew was dead and gone or were waiting for him back in his new homeland. There was only one last piece of left for </span>
  <span>Berulf</span>
  <span> of the Marcomanni to dispose of. Then he would be free. He would return to </span>
  <span>Raskild</span>
  <span>, they would marry; their children would be green-eyed like her. They would grow up and they would grow old in peace, and Folkwin </span>
  <span>Wolfspeer</span>
  <span> would be dead and gone. As he watched Arminius and </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> mount to ride off to the pastures one morning, he shook his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Today or nothing. Just get it over with. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He waited. The day went on just as the days normally did, but most of the village women and children (Thusnelda included) had gone from the village to some of the fields. Folkwin had seen their usual pattern, though: the redheaded family all appeared to belong to </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span>, and it seemed that </span>
  <span>Talio’s</span>
  <span> children had been pressed into childcare on </span>
  <span>Thusnelda’s</span>
  <span> behalf. It was getting later in the day, however, and he knew he was going to lose both his chance and likely his nerve if he kept waiting. He’d seen one of the redheaded girls bringing the baby back into the hall nearly an hour ago and she’d come back out the front not long after, going back into her own home. As soon as she had shut her door, Folkwin broke his cover in the trees and made his way to the back of the hall, steeling himself as he opened the back door.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He assumed that the hall in front of him hadn’t much changed; it never really did. But the private quarters surely had. They were no longer spare, as they had been under Segimer. Instead, the old, undusted weavings draped above the ceiling had been cleaned and freshened, with some replaced entirely. Even the old loom that had stood in the corner was alive again: the old scrap of plaid that had been begun by Segimer’s wife had been cut and finished, folded as a scarf laid atop the conspicuously Roman armor propped up in the corner—with only a few noticeable bloodstains. The armor itself was little altered more than the mark of </span>
  <span>Cherusci</span>
  <span> war paint across the mask of the helm, the sight of which made him nauseous and again burned his heart. Thusnelda’s spears were stacked with the two Roman swords (not the eagle-pommeled one that Folkwin knew Arminius carried now) behind them—one polished and well-kept, the other looking like it had never been cleaned since its last battle. Folkwin was surprised, though, at how much lighter the room seemed. The weaving now on the loom was a pale blue; the wicker and wood of new baskets and furniture was fresh-hewn and bright. There were new pelts across the bed. There was a garland of dried and drying flowers—all the flowers that Arminius had brought Thusnelda, probably—chained down through one of the rafters. There were even signs of others, more than just the two adult occupants: more than a pair of cups and bowls, there was a large, unmatched stack that appeared to be freshly cleaned, and the pot on the hearth was full of far more food than two people would eat. In a basket near the door was a pile of children’s mending; there were extra spindles in the basket of wool, and there was a pair of child’s shoes drying at the hearth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s like when we were young, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Folkwin thought, eyes still roaming over the familiar, yet unfamiliar, sight. Ari—Arminius’s mother had kept her home neat, but as bright as she could, even in the darkness of war. She always tried to make it </span>
  <span>welcoming</span>
  <span> and always extended love and care to Folkwin and Thusnelda when they came in—it seemed that the new </span>
  <span>reik</span>
  <span> and his lady were doing the same. He smiled sadly—and it hurt. It was then that he noticed the large, oval bassinet set beside the bed. Next to it was a basket full of extra swaddling nestled with a few small toys, some of which Folkwin recognized with some sickness had come from his own former house, but conspicuously among the carved bone toys was a small Roman hand mirror made of brass: he had never seen Arminius use it, but he knew where it had come from. The sight of it again stoked Folkwin’s will. He stepped through the doorway only barely close enough to peer over the edge of the cradle.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, the baby was somehow so much smaller than he’d expected, even though he knew it was about three months old. He was </span>
  <span>unswaddled</span>
  <span> and sleeping laid on his back on a mattress made of Roman-red wool. Deep in the pit of his stomach, Folkwin felt a growing knot. Within the rounded, softened features of the baby’s face, he could see the barest beginnings of Thusnelda's familiar eyes and nose. The fine fuzz of bronze hair atop his head was much darker than what Folkwin knew his own to be. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is there nothing from me? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He blinked back the tears that were threatening to rise: this was Thusnelda’s child. Not his. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He is my firstborn in blood only, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Folkwin tried to repeat to himself. But still, he could not bring himself to step forward and he </span>
  <span>could not will</span>
  <span> his arms to reach down into the cradle. As he stood and stared, frozen at the sight, the baby suddenly stirred, his small mouth opening in a yawn, and his eyes blinked upwards, face scrunching as he started to stretch, whining softly—seemingly frustrated with being thrust into consciousness. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, who’re you, then?” Folkwin was startled at the small voice coming from the doorway into the hall proper. When he whipped around to face it, he was startled to see the small red-headed girl, her arms full </span>
  <span>with</span>
  <span> a basket of more food. She didn’t quite look so suspicious of his presence, but she looked interested and concerned, and when she strode forward to deposit her load near the hearth, she brushed her hands off on her skirts. The glint of slightly-too-large Roman bangles on her wrists shone in the low light of the hearth. Folkwin froze as the girl stepped over before him to the bassinet, reaching down to the cooing baby, who gurgled as she offered him her hand to toy with. “I asked: who're you?” she said, undaunted, now fully focused on Folkwin himself. As she looked, her gaze grew more critical. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Berulf</span>
  <span>.” </span>
  <span>The girl narrowed her eyes. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>What are you doing in here</span>
  <span>?</span>
  
  <span>You’re not </span>
  <span>one of my </span>
  <span>Da's</span>
  <span> men and you’re not </span>
  <span>Cherusci</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span>” Folkwin was surprised at how much the sentence stung. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Yeah, </span>
  <span>you’re right. I’m not </span>
  <span>Cherusci</span>
  <span>. I’m from the </span>
  <span>Marcomanni. I’ve come to </span>
  <span>visit;</span>
  <span> I </span>
  <span>have friends here in the village.” The girl considered this</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>“What’s your name?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Genovefa, daughter of </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  
  <span>and </span>
  <span>S</span>
  <span>ueva</span>
  <span>.” Folkwin nodded slowly.</span>
  
  <span>He knew that.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is your father here?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Da’s with Ari at—Reik Arminius,” she corrected herself, as if trying to sound a bit more proper. “They'll be back soon. Who're your friends?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are who?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked</span>
  <span>, ‘</span>
  <span>who are your friends?</span>
  <span>’” </span>
  <span>Genovefa</span>
  <span>’s</span>
  <span> hand was now still, which seemed to annoy the baby</span>
  
  <span>more than anything. But Genovefa </span>
  <span>began to </span>
  <span>slowly </span>
  <span>lean down,</span>
  <span> both arms</span>
  
  <span>slowly moving towards lifting</span>
  <span> the </span>
  <span>baby</span>
  <span>, eyes now not leaving Folkwin. </span>
  <span>“Why are you here?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Folkwin did not </span>
  <span>think, but</span>
  <span> found himself merely reacting—the girl didn’t scream as he lunged for her, and his mind went blank. But as the girl’s body fell to the ground with a wet thud, Folkwin felt sick. His ears rang and blazed with pain—he couldn’t register from what. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What have I done? </span>
  </em>
  <span>The girl’s eyes were growing glassy as her breath came sputtering and hitched before slowly stopping all together, and Folkwin caught his head in his hands only for a moment before the warm wetness of the blood startled him back to the present. “Gods, I am sorry, I am so sorry,” he said down to her—knowing she couldn’t hear. “You didn’t deserve this; I am so sorry.” The baby had started to cry. Folkwin looked down at him in a panic before thinking, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop it! Babies cry, it’s what they do! No one will come!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Before he could stop, he grabbed the large square of old plaid blanket, which he recognized with some annoyance as Arminius’s first one from moving back into the hall as reik. As he hastily wrapped the baby, it calmed, and they disappeared out the back door—closing it gently behind him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda</span>
  <span> and </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> met up with their husbands as they rode back from the pastures, and together the four of them </span>
  <span>made their way back into the </span>
  <span>hall</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
  <span>When Ari seemed visibly disappointed that Arnulf wasn’t in </span>
  <span>Thusnelda’s</span>
  <span> arms, both she and </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> laughed. “</span>
  <span>Genovefa’s</span>
  <span> with the baby,” </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> said, waving her hand before she propped up the small of her back again, only now in the past two weeks spontaneously looking like she was actually with child. Thusnelda took the basket out of </span>
  <span>Sueva’s</span>
  <span> other arm so she could lean back a little farther, making a face. “More importantly, she’s watching the pot for supper.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew it was bound to happen eventually,” Thusnelda said, half under her breath. Her jealousy at </span>
  <span>Sueva’s</span>
  <span> ease thus far had been palpable and no one could bear to tease her about it, but </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> rose an eyebrow and waved her away, again leading them all towards the hall. As they passed Sucaria, </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> hollered at her to round up the herd for dinner, and </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> and Ari dismounted as the adults entered the hall, Ari quietly praising and thanking </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> for his hard work</span>
  <span>, again reminding him how handsome he wa</span>
  <span>s</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> shot Thusnelda a look as he tied his own horse up for the moment before he returned home to wash up for supper. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you have his whole heart,</span>
  <span> Thusnelda</span>
  <span>?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>I’ve </span>
  <span>learned not to think about it</span>
  <span> too hard</span>
  <span>,” she replied, shaking her head. Ari glanced back at them with a cockeyed grin. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you have enough of it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that’s what </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>think, and I know that will have to be enough for me.” Thusnelda laughed, knocking open the door to their chambers with her hip, but when she turned to go in, her arms went slack, her basket tumbling and spilling out in a heap around her feet. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She</span>
  
  <span>did not</span>
  <span> scream. </span>
  <span>Neither did Ari</span>
  <span> when he </span>
  <span>ran</span>
  <span> to her side</span>
  <span>, or when he</span>
  <span> stumbled into the room </span>
  <span>towards </span>
  <span>Genovefa’s</span>
  <span> small body, where she lay </span>
  <span>sprawled </span>
  <span>in a puddle of </span>
  <span>matte, </span>
  <span>cold blood </span>
  <span>alongside the empty bassinet. </span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Folkwin didn’t try to hide his tracks. All that mattered was to get to the bog and to get back to Marcomanni lands as fast as possible. He hadn’t even been able to mount his horse, what with trying to hold a baby—</span>
  <em>
    <span>I guess I didn’t really think </span>
  </em>
  <span>that </span>
  <em>
    <span>part through, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought to himself ruefully as he led the horse through the woods. He refused to look downwards at the child himself, who by now was growing fussy again—he was trying to keep it quiet gently bouncing him in his arms and shushing him, but he didn’t want to look down. In part, he didn’t want to see the blood he knew was dried and caking to his neck and shoulder from his ripped ear—the girl had ripped out his earring when he—he closed his eyes for a moment as he stepped. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s fair. It’s the least she could take. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He tried to push the thought away, though, and tried to focus instead on the forest around them.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>The walk to the bog was less than an hour and he didn’t know how long it would be before they either noticed the girl was missing or they came back from the fields for the day to eat—and judging by the size of the pot on the hearth (and the number of redheads in the village), someone would find her quickly. Folkwin took a steely breath and tried to wipe the image from his mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I won’t tell </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Raskild</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. She doesn’t have to know. All she needs to know is that my oath is fulfilled. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He repeated this over and over, trying to focus only on the path </span>
  <span>ahead—getting</span>
  <span> to the bog, then crossing the river back southeast. Back to home, back to his future—back to his new life.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As he came to the bog, the horse herself was getting fidgety—the baby was growing even more vocal in his discomfort. Folkwin lashed the horse’s reins down in the little clearing nearest to the banks and walked forward alone, coming to the banks of the water itself. As he stopped at the last few clumps marsh grass in the loamy peat beneath them, staring out into the ceaseless, deep grey that seemed to swallow the water’s surface but for the remains of altars and the sacrifices that had been driven into the peat below, only to rise above into the air again, he felt cold. He closed his eyes as he began to kneel. As he settled downwards, though, there was a noise from beneath him that made him jump. He opened his eyes, looking at the bundle he now held before him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The baby looked back, his blue eyes bright and aware as they focused on him alone. Folkwin felt sudden heat down his </span>
  <span>face</span>
  <span> and he realized that they were tears—and the baby wiggled in his swaddling, its face still red from crying, but when Folkwin met its eyes, it stopped—and a smile broke across its face, gurgling a noise that almost sounded like a laugh. Folkwin shook his head, watching the baby as it watched him back, and he settled it back in the crook of his arms, cradling it against him as it now cooed, eyes still following his. Folkwin broke the baby’s gaze. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What have I done?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He realized that he was holding the bundle outwards, now—out over the water itself. While not deep, it would be deep enough. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What have I done?!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Folkwin sobbed, pulling the bundle back towards his chest, hugging it tight against him as he wept—the noise startling the baby, and he hushed and calmed it, rocking it against him, his cheek against the baby’s hair until its cries again subsided. Finally, the baby was silent enough, and when Folkwin pulled his arms away to see it, he saw that it was beginning to fall asleep.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Folkwin closed his eyes, raising his face to the heavens, breathing in the dark air around him—trying to draw strength. He laid the bundle down at the cusp of the water. He did not stop as he made his way back to his picketed horse. He pulled himself onto her back and turned away, pushing her as hard as he felt he could—and they made their way back to the road. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As </span>
  <span>he</span>
  <span> rode, Folkwin felt nothing.</span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My goodness, shit seems to have just hit the fan, didn't it? :P</p><p>Many thanks for reading, guys. Updates soon to come. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The Sight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This right here brings my total word document of the fic that is *published* to 99 total pages. How about that for "I'm only going to write one-shots"?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sueva's</span>
  <span> screaming </span>
  <span>was perhaps only matched by her husband’s as they </span>
  <span>stumbled to their daughter’s body, </span>
  <span>wailing as </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> lifted her into his arms</span>
  <span>, but both Ari and Thusnelda </span>
  <span>were</span>
  <span> frozen as they looked at the empty cradle and absent swaddling blanket.</span>
  <span> Finally, Ari managed to will himself forward</span>
  <span>, blindly stepping</span>
  <span> until he was settled at their sides, realizing </span>
  <span>blankly that Thusnelda had followed. Genovefa </span>
  <span>wasn’t</span>
  <span>, but her body was slack and limp—but the blood </span>
  <span>that had covered her neck to torso, down to her hand, was dark and </span>
  <span>drying</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>As </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> rocked her, </span>
  <span>his</span>
  <span> and </span>
  <span>Sueva’s</span>
  <span> sobbing </span>
  <span>was</span>
  <span> a far-off noise</span>
  <span>—even more abstract a sound than a crash in the doorway as Sucaria burst through. Color draining from her face, she took several steps towards them before leaving the room, slamming the door behind her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The other children</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ari </span>
  <span>remembered: </span>
  <em>
    <span>She must be keeping them away.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ari then </span>
  <span>noticed the smallest glint in </span>
  <span>Genovefa’s</span>
  
  <span>small, bloody fist.</span>
  
  <span>Her hand was loosely closed around a small bronze object, which Ari reached forward and removed—and both he and Thusnelda could not help the sudden </span>
  <span>boil</span>
  <span> of anger that filled them at the sight. It was a single earring. </span>
  <span>Thusnelda’s</span>
  <span> sob turned into a low scream as she saw it, eye burning. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Folkwin.” </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> shuddered into a choked silence and he met their eyes, </span>
  <span>delirious with some indefinable emotion</span>
  <span>—Ari was sure that he might have </span>
  <span>felt something close. “Find him,”</span>
  
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> said, her</span>
  <span> voice broken and wild. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He has my baby</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Thusnelda nearly screamed back</span>
  <span>, nails digging into the dirt of the floor beneath her. Ari</span>
  <span>, shaking, put his hand on hers. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He can’t be far—he can’t take care of a baby by himself,” Ari said, trying to will his voice flat.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda whipped her head to face him but twisted her hand to meet his grip. </span>
  <span>“But where would he go?!” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Ari screamed. </span>
  <span>He pulled away, staggering to his feet. </span>
  <span>He felt no tears coming</span>
  <span>. He was glad for it—</span>
  <em>
    <span>remove your emotions entirely, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he reminded himself</span>
  <span>, reaching up and holding his head.</span>
  
  <em>
    <span>Am I breathing? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He tried to work his lungs, as slowly as he could</span>
  <span>—and was satisfied at the numbness overtaking him. </span>
  <span>He had work to do. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He looked around the room</span>
  <span>, seeing the splatter of blood presumably from </span>
  <span>Folkwin’s</span>
  <span> ear as it trailed out towards the back door</span>
  <span>. When he walked to it and tested the latch, opening it, he was satisfied to see the small trail continuing out past the </span>
  <span>doorway and out towards the woods themselves. </span>
  <span>When he turned to look at Thusnelda, her hands were over her mouth, eye wide. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>I saw this,” she said, her voice trembling.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“My...my dream—that </span>
  <span>Runa</span>
  <span>...”</span>
  <span> Ari felt like what little ground was still beneath his feet fell away. “And...</span>
  <span>Ansgar</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>Ansgar</span>
  <span> said...” She shivered, forcing her hands to her sides. “</span>
  <span>Ansgar</span>
  <span> said he’s</span>
  <span> wet</span>
  <span>, and I saw...”</span>
  <span> she said quietly, eye swimming to Ari’s. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It was when he was born, Ari; </span>
  <span>Ansgar</span>
  <span> said Arnulf was wet...and </span>
  <span>Runa</span>
  <span> asked him when.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The bog?” he whispered. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Thusnelda said, almost weakly. “The bog, the river, I don’t know, Ari; Ari, he was muddy—I was—” she tried to stand, but her knees didn’t want to take her weight. “No. The bog. He was at the bog. And we were at the road. I know where. But the baby—and Folkwin—” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thusnelda.” Ari reached down and helped her up, steadying her. “Tell me everything you remember.” She took a slow breath through her nose and reached up to him, hands burying in his shirt and clenching tightly around the fabric to feel the texture, like he always did, and met his gaze. She nodded slowly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We were in the clearing far down the road, near the river—I know where; it’s the ash clearing down the road—it's a </span>
  <span>ways</span>
  <span>, but we can get there. But I smelled the bog, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>reeked</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Folkwin was there, and he told me that this was what I needed to see. When I turned, you were there beside me, and Talio and Sucaria were behind us—and she held Arnulf. They had him. They found him, not us. But there was...there was blood. All of us...all of us were bloody. Me, Talio, you...” she closed her eye and locked her jaw for a moment, taking a deep, slow breath, trying to tamp down the rising fear at the memory. Ari didn’t shift but for to nod, beckoning her to continue. “And the baby cried. When we—us—we turned back to Folkwin, and my spear was—and he held—” her breath caught and she realized she was shaking her head, “I don’t know what of it was real, or what order it happens, or if all of it happens—Runa said I would—” she took another right breath, counting it slowly. “Runa said that I would remember what I needed to. She said I would know.” She bit back a sob, but she suddenly felt far-off. The world slipped only slightly into the grey-white-off-bright of the </span>
  <span>dre</span>
  <span>—no, vision. But it left in moments. Ari hushed her, taking her face in his hands and resting their foreheads together. For a moment, neither of them could seem to move—too afraid to be the one to pull away first, too afraid to lose contact with what little grounding they had. Finally, her breathing evened, Thusnelda lifted her hands and pulled his away. She met his eyes and </span>
  <span>nodded—Ari</span>
  <span> realized with far-off amusement that her exact expression had probably been picked up from him. “We all have to leave now. We haven’t much time,” she said, her voice distant—but even. He nodded. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we will leave. The four of us.” He looked to </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span>. His captain’s expression had also grown distant and calculated, and he gently lifted his daughter’s body, holding her close. Thusnelda gestured to their bed and </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> tenderly laid her down, </span>
  <span>Sueva’s</span>
  <span> screaming since subsided, but her weeping still strong. </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> said nothing as he walked out the door, and neither did Thusnelda or Ari—both avoiding the small pool of blood, trying to ignore that they would have to clean it up later.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sucaria sat on the dais steps, her </span>
  <span>face</span>
  <span> puffy from tears as she turned to them. Her eyes went not to their faces, but over the patches of blood on all their clothes. “The others—I sent them outside, back home,” she said. “I’ve got Manus watching them.” </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> came forward and kneeled beside her, taking her into his arms. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, girl.” He kissed the top of her head, taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment before he pushed her away, right at arm’s length as he looked over her face. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sucaria,” Ari said as he knelt before her, reaching out to take her hand. “I am so sorry. But we need you.” For a moment, a flicker of dismay passed over her face—but it dissipated quickly as she met his eyes, now sure and fierce. “Thusnelda saw this. She saw you there. You must come.” Sucaria nodded, fresh tears welling over, but her face set. Ari looked from face to face, searching through them all. “Sucaria, take your father to the bog. He might have taken the road, or he might not have, but there is a trail. But I trust you, Sucaria. Do you understand?” He took shoulders in his hands—his face much less Ari and much more Arminius than she had seen in months. Mutely, she nodded, tightening her shoulders and trying not to bite her tongue. “You can do this. Take Fons. Go. We will take the road, and we will go to where Thusnelda saw us meet him.” When he released her, he'd nearly drug her to her feet and shoved her in the direction of the still-saddled horses. She leapt on </span>
  <span>Fons's</span>
  <span> back as instructed, but found her stomach suddenly wavering. She'd never ridden him before, and now she was almost afraid to—even though she knew Fons at least liked her (adored her, if one was to ask Ari), she knew how strong </span>
  <span>Fons’s</span>
  <span> opinions were about people, and he had opinions about obeying orders. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>gave him orders. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>led him, not to pasture; she never untacked him, she never even fed him. Ari specifically required that he—or Thusnelda, if it came to it—was the only one to do so. The only two people Sucaria had ever seen on his back were Ari or Thusnelda—but the people she’d seen him bite or posture to kick she could count on her hands and toes together before the </span>
  <span>tribesfolk</span>
  <span> had learned their lesson. He flicked his ears back at her, eyeing her as she took the reins Ari handed her and Ari stepped before him, hands smoothing down the horse’s wide cheeks, pressing their foreheads together as he spoke quietly, evenly, in Latin. From the look the horse gave him, Sucaria not for the first time found herself believing that Fons </span>
  <span>actually understood</span>
  <span> him as he nickered, butting his head into Ari's shoulder as he pulled away. His ears now flicked forward, any trepidation at a new rider seemed gone as he rocked on his hooves, ready. Thusnelda reached out and took Sucaria’s hand.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sucaria, if—when. When you find him. The ash clearing, down the road to the river.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“With the boulders in the roots of that split tree?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. That’s where Folkwin will be, that’s where we are going.” Ari was glad Sucaria was traveled throughout his </span>
  <span>tribe lands</span>
  <span>—he was sure he’d probably know what they meant, but at least Sucaria knew for sure.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sucaria looked beside her as her father mounted himself and when she saw he had his reins, she snapped hers and they both sprang out of the open doorway, steering back behind the hall as Ari hastily saddled his spare and Thusnelda her gelding. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The trail was obvious. Folkwin hadn’t tried to hide his steps. As she followed it, Sucaria </span>
  <span>found herself settling and a far-off peace overtaking her</span>
  <span>, finding solace in the task—and they disappeared into the woods. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>At the sudden flurry of activity (and after hearing the screaming), </span>
  <span>tribesfolk</span>
  <span> began to descend on the hall—especially as Manus stood outside keeping his siblings at bay, all of them appearing in various stages of awareness and panic. Ari went over to him and took his shoulders, meeting his eyes. “Your mother is in there still. We will all be back soon, I swear.” Manus, dazed, nodded. But as Ari and Thusnelda mounted and trotted outside, Ari kept his jaw set as he looked from person to person—their voices far-off as they said...something. He couldn’t make himself listen. They were not the task at hand. He rose his hand but didn’t wait for any semblance of quiet. “Genovefa has been murdered. Arnulf has been stolen. Thusnelda has been given a vision—we will return.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not much, but they will have to deal with it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought as he and Thusnelda broke out of the crowd, now louder and more desperate—but soon, the noise died away behind them. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari hated riding his spare horse—he hadn’t even bothered to name her. Sucaria had, though—but he could never remember what it was; something about her being brown. She was fine enough, of course; he'd picked her from the spoils after the battle in Teutoburg, strong and slender, of a good height and build, and at first sight he’d thought she’d make a good mate for Fons—but once he’d gotten a full night’s sleep, he’d quickly realized that she was spectacularly dumb. He’d been annoyed at that (he knew he had an eye for horses, but he also knew he’d been blindly exhausted when he’d pointed her out) and now he almost—almost—found himself kicking himself over the thought of having to ride Brown Horse (or whatever it was) over Fons. But he immediately held to the thought of why. Brown Horse could run through the roads as fast as any—but Fons could pick through thickets just as well as he could battlefields. He wouldn’t lose his pace. Ari had seen the nerves in Sucaria’s eyes as she’d swung into Fons’s saddle, and the annoyance in his as he’d sized her up, but there was no one he trusted more. He held to that thought. Fons would get her there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They’ll get there in time. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He refused to believe anything else. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As he and Thusnelda thundered down the road, Thusnelda led—she'd said she knew where, and her face was still just as impassive and sure. The longer they rode, though, as evening began to creep in through the trees, Ari’s numbed nerves began to fray. </span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading, guys! So, I'm getting ready for a cross-continent move in the next few days, but I'll try to get another chapter update out here in the next few (before I actually head out). In the mean time, thank you for stopping by! Let me know what you think! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The Bog</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter Warnings: Violence.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ari and Thusnelda rode hard. One of the few good things that could be said of Rome and its constant, brutal demands for tribute was that the road to the river was well-traveled and wide, and they didn’t need to slow down—they met no one in their path. But they felt no better as they went. Finally, Ari, too, began to recognize the area where they were—it was close to a clearing he himself had rested in many times, and as Thusnelda began to pull back on her horse, searching through the trees, he heard it too. Sobbing—hysterical and hoarse. The sound sent terrible shocks of anger through him, bewildering and nearly overwhelming—but he forced it away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Remove your feelings. Remove your emotions. They do not serve you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That was his training, that was the goal. They both broke off from the road and through the loose pack of trees, through a small ridge of boulders, and the sight before them was not what they had expected, if they had expected anything at all. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Folkwin had only loosely draped his horse’s reins around a branch, and she looked annoyed, especially as Ari and Thusnelda entered the clearing. But Folkwin didn’t look up for a long moment, catching his breathing. His face was red, his eyes wild, and for a moment bewildered—but resigned, as soon as their presence registered with him. He stumbled up to his feet, wiping his face and choking on his breathing, trying to settle his shoulders, fiercely nodding to himself as if convincing himself he was—could be—calm. Thusnelda took in the sight of him before her, somehow so different. His clothes were much finer than they had been, now—a well-made deep brown shirt and riding pants, and his hair was much longer—his beard, too. But there were small gouges in his cheek from a small hand, and blood was caked down from his ear to neck to shoulder from where Genovefa ripped out his earring. It was dark and dry and smeared, but it hadn’t seemed he’d tried to stop the bleeding. He stared back to them, though, as if seeing them so up close somehow made the whole thing more real. But he jerked his head in a nod—Thusnelda recognized his gesture. It gave her no comfort now.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“My </span>
  <span>reik</span>
  <span>, my lady,” he said</span>
  <span> almost</span>
  <span> dryly, eyes clearing as they moved between the two of them. “To what do I owe this honor?” The words sounded strange coming from him. Thusnelda took a slow breath, dismounting—steadying herself on her spear as she did so. She settled it strongly before her, white knuckled. She remained as still and composed as she could, her eye burning as it settled on him—and Ari was much the same as he dropped to the ground at her side. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” she asked. Her voice was barely over a whisper—it was the most even she could make it. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His face tightened. It seemed that he hadn’t expected that question. “I had to, Thusnelda.” She shook her head. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a monster,” she said, her voice stronger. “You are evil.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I had no choice!” He looked away—meeting Ari’s eyes for only a moment before he looked back to Thusnelda, then ran a hand over his face to re-compose himself. “It had to be done. It’s over with, and there’s nothing you can do.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is our son, Folkwin?” Ari asked evenly. Folkwin seethed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your </span>
  </em>
  <span>son? </span>
  <em>
    <span>You, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arminius, have no sons. Your wife did—with me. But you—”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You will regret any more words like those you may speak, friend,” Ari spat, hand on his hilt. Thusnelda shifted her grip on her spear, stalking forward. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, Folkwin?” she growled. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why? Why did you steal my baby?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It seemed without meaning to, but Folkwin shrank as she did so, his own hand slowly reaching for his sword. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not my fault,” he said, his voice breaking—Thusnelda heard grief within it, but it only made her heart burn hotter. “I swore, Thusnelda—I had to pay. It was for all of us.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you swear?!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“When I went into the wood, after my family was—” his voice broke and he turned away, </span>
  <span>regathering</span>
  <span> himself. “When I went to the Dead Lands. I offered my firstborn to Wodan in exchange for the defeat of </span>
  <span>Varus</span>
  <span>, Thusnelda. He kept his bargain. I kept mine.” Thusnelda felt sick. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You swore that before Ari and I were even married! You swore that oath, knowing that you would have to look me in the eye as you stole my baby from my arms...and you didn’t tell me!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He would go to the gods, Thusnelda, and we would be saved! He would have given his life for all our children after!” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That is not your right!” Ari said. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I am his </span>
  <span>father,</span>
  <span> I have the only right!” Folkwin shook his head, looking between them both—he looked close to weeping again, but the tears didn’t come. “Don’t you understand?! I have a new life now, and so do you! I have a family; a woman that loves me! That child was the only thing that kept me here, and that oath was the only thing to keep me away from her! You didn’t need it! It’s not even yours, Ari.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>swore the oaths as his father, Folkwin, not you. I know he was begotten by you, and if you had wanted to be there with him while he grew up, how could I have refused? How could either of us? But I swore myself to Thusnelda when I married her, and when we had thought you had died, what else could we do but rely on each other? Since the moment she told me, I swore to protect both of them regardless, even though I knew he wasn’t mine! Do you think that changes how I feel about him? He is my wife’s son, Folkwin. He is </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> heir and the prince of the </span>
  <span>Cherusci</span>
  <span>, and he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> firstborn! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not yours!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Screaming, Folkwin lunged at him, but Thusnelda slapped the shaft of her spear across his ribs, knocking him sideways and sending him sprawling in a heap on his side, sword dropping from his hand and skidding away.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari shifted his stance, widening away from Thusnelda, cornering Folkwin against a tree. “</span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> and his daughter are on their way to the bog, Folkwin—”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And you think they’ll get to him in time?!” Folkwin laughed. “He is a baby. If the water hasn’t gotten to him, the wolves have. What is your best case, </span>
  <span>hm</span>
  <span>? A burial, maybe? Wodan has him already.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You lie!” Thusnelda growled.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I laid him in the water, just as sacrifice demands! I carried out my part of the bargain! We won! For fuck’s sake, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>won! Thank me or not, but that baby was payment!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You will pay with your own blood, Folkwin,” Thusnelda said as levelly as she could. She took a step forward, and Ari followed her lead—Folkwin looking between them as they grew closer, and any escape was closed off.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The Bog was close to the village. Closer than the ceremonial groves had been to where Sucaria had grown up—that took almost half a day to reach, not an hour. And the longer she spent on </span>
  <span>Fons’s</span>
  <span> back, she could see why Ari hated, hated, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated </span>
  </em>
  <span>riding anything else—other than the fact that Sucaria was almost positive she was absolutely not</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>in </span>
  <em>
    <span>control </span>
  </em>
  <span>of him—more that he was taking her suggestions as they went. But she knew what she was looking for. Folkwin had taken a path through the woods: she’d seen it, and now she was sick for not seeing it for what it was for the past several months. It had been a series of deer paths, and she’d known that it had been trodden by a human, she’d just assumed it was another </span>
  <span>Cherusci</span>
  <span> hunter. She’d not brought it up to anyone. But there was no time to cry over it now. He’d led his horse, not ridden it, so that had given them some extra time. Why? </span>
  <em>
    <span>He was carrying a baby, you can’t mount carrying a baby,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she’d remembered; so at least...she had tamped down the emotion that came with it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At least none of the blood was </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Arnulf’s</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>. He was still alive, at least then. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Her father was still following behind her, and he was silent as they went. But they could already smell faint wafts of the bog whenever the breeze shifted, and it was growing stronger. The trail grew more pronounced—the footprints and </span>
  <span>hoofprints</span>
  <span> more pronounced and erratic (the horse didn’t want to follow), and the air grew stagnant and dark. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As they drew closer, it was even more obvious. The ground was freshly disturbed: newly trampled marsh grass still smelled sweet within the </span>
  <span>rot</span>
  <span> of the dark air, and the single set of </span>
  <span>hoofprints</span>
  <span> going towards and away from the bog itself had not yet settled. As they came up to the edges of the bog, there was a wide impression of where a horse had been picketed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sucaria nearly threw herself off her </span>
  <span>Fons's</span>
  <span> back, her gaze swinging wildly as she searched for footprints and any traces of passage. It wasn’t long before she found her goal, </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> following behind, searching as best he could.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Da,” Sucaria called quietly, her eyes settled on the bog's banks, and slowly she rose her finger to point at a tangle of cloth wedged between the rushes. “Da, that’s...” It was Ari’s </span>
  <span>old </span>
  <span>plaid. The pit of </span>
  <span>Talio’s</span>
  <span> stomach dropped as he stepped forward, Sucaria following behind him. </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> bent down to it, reaching out and biting back a sob as he touched the corner of the fabric. Suddenly, it moved, a small noise muffled by the layers of wet cloth. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He carefully lifted the small bundle from the edge of the water, eyes wide as it moved again, and as </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> pulled back the corner of the blanket, he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Sucaria gasped. Pale skinned, soaked through, with pruned fingers and mud on his cheeks, the baby stirred, face scrunching up, and cried. </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> carefully bounced the babe in his arms and cradled him up to his chest, wordlessly thanking the Women of the Wood, </span>
  <span>Wodan himself, </span>
  <span>the gods of Rome, and any others that were watching—barely believing the small weight now settled in his arms; not hearing </span>
  <span>Sucaria’s</span>
  <span> tearful laughter next to him as she reached to hold a handful of the blanket, taking one of the baby’s tiny hands in hers. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How is he alive?!” Sucaria choked as she sobbed, sinking</span>
  <span> to </span>
  <span>her </span>
  <span>knees</span>
  <span> beside her father. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> was</span>
  <span> otherwise unable to speak any other words than “We’ve found you, you are safe, I have you,” tears streaming freely down his cheeks. Soon, the baby’s small cries subsided and </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> looked down at him, </span>
  <span>Arnulf’s</span>
  <span> small hands reaching up and his little fingers suddenly wrapped tightly in </span>
  <span>Talio’s</span>
  <span> beard. He couldn’t help the laugh that rose through him. He shifted Arnulf to one arm and pulled Sucaria close to him with the other, holding her head to his chest as he composed himself. “Well done, girl,” he said hoarsely, unsure if he wanted to laugh or cry. “I am proud.” She returned the embrace, her long, thin arms hugging around him as tight as she could. Quickly, though, she pulled away, and suddenly began fiddling with her brooch to take off her own cloak, folding it half and half again. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>He’s</span>
  <span> cold, can’t have that,” she said, wrapping it around herself and leaving a small space for them to untangle the little prince from his </span>
  <span>father’s soaked</span>
  <span> plaid, nestling him in the dry fabric against her chest. “Da,” she called, looking up at her father. </span>
  <span>“We have to go</span>
  <span>—they don’t know Folkwin didn’t—” He nodded, clapping her on the shoulder, and they mounted again—as Sucaria came to </span>
  <span>Fons’s</span>
  <span> side, he nickered lightly and huffed a breath over </span>
  <span>Arnulf’s</span>
  <span> head. She patted him on his neck</span>
  <span>—it appeared they’d come to an understanding</span>
  <span>. This time, </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> lead the way.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Folkwin looked between Ari and Thusnelda, and it appeared that he was trying to figure out a way of escape. “I have already paid, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nelda.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He nearly spat her nickname—she balked. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have you been watching us?!” she asked. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Too long! I’ve been away from home since before </span>
  <em>
    <span>our </span>
  </em>
  <span>son was born! I’ve seen the way you’ve lived, the both of you—all of you. I’ve seen...” Folkwin shook his head, his eyes boring into Ari’s. “For a </span>
  <span>reik</span>
  <span>, you’re on your knees far too much.” As he let his comment hang, Thusnelda gasped, disgusted. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You had no right, and you should have never—”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“At least I know who you’re ruling now, Thusnelda.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Our life is none of your concern,” Ari said smoothly. Thusnelda knew he was seething, either way. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You let her walk all over—”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>let</span>
  </em>
  <span> her, Folkwin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> do as </span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>please. I’m hers as much as she’s mine.” Thusnelda smiled darkly as she shot an approving look to her husband, then back to Folkwin. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And besides. He cares for me like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>never would have, and never could have.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>With a wild scream, </span>
  <span>Folkwin lunged. </span>
  <span>For some reason, neither Thusnelda nor Ari seemed to expect it: </span>
  <span>but instead of going for Thusnelda before him, he broke sideways to Ari.</span>
  
  <span>T</span>
  <span>husnelda watched in silent horror as </span>
  <span>Ari tried to parry </span>
  <span>Folkwin’s</span>
  <span> strike, but his blade slipped upwards</span>
  <span>—and instead of catching on the </span>
  <span>guard</span>
  <span>, instead of </span>
  <span>swinging away entirely, Folkwin was able to whip it around into a wicked, long </span>
  <span>slice that skated right across Ari’s ribs. </span>
  <span>Ari doubled over</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>falling back,</span>
  <span> and Folkwin kicked</span>
  <span> forward, catching him in the head, </span>
  <span>knocking it</span>
  <span> back against the rocks behind him—and they all heard a dull </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack </span>
  </em>
  <span>as his head snapped back against them. He slumped down, collapsing over his wounded side. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thusnelda screamed, watching Ari tumble—and Folkwin angled back around to her, placing himself out farther into the clearing where he had a bit more maneuverability. Thusnelda felt her heart thudding in her ears as she glanced over to Ari, seeing a trickle of blood beneath him—but whipped back to Folkwin. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>traitor. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You </span>
  <em>
    <span>monster.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Folkwin shook his head. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need him</span>
  <span>!</span>
  <span>”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t you dare tell me what I need.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you understand, Thusnelda?! I have a life of my own now, without you! I would have never come back if I didn’t know your child—”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“This is because of me, then</span>
  <span>?!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <span>understand it, Thusnelda,” Folkwin said, shaking his head</span>
  <span>—but he rose his bloodied sword as Thusnelda </span>
  <span>began to</span>
  <span> back him into her own corner, cutting off his chances of </span>
  <span>escape. </span>
  <span>“What are you getting out of this?</span>
  <span>” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I </span>
  <em>
    <span>getting?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Thusnelda </span>
  <span>stood straight</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>looking back at him </span>
  <span>incredulously. “I secured peace for my family, Folkwin! </span>
  <em>
    <span>With Ari! </span>
  </em>
  <span>As </span>
  <em>
    <span>equals! </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>is what I’m </span>
  <span>getting!” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Come on, Thusnelda, really; what is it? How is that enough for you?!” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>How would it not be</span>
  <span>?!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>all you want? A </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband? </span>
  </em>
  <span>A </span>
  <em>
    <span>baby? </span>
  </em>
  <span>After everything you’ve accomplished?!” He looked back at her with a mixture of confusion and hurt. “You aren’t the woman I loved.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“<em>Good</em>.” Thusnelda nearly growled as she shifted her hand on her spear. </span>
  <span>“I know how to stop when I’m ahead, Folkwin,” she said evenly—</span>
  <span>now </span>
  <span>willing her voice to remain flat. “I saved my tribe, and I saved the others. I don’t need to rule them all to keep my spoils. I just need to defend my own.” Folkwin shook his head. It was clear he didn’t understand, and Thusnelda knew now that whatever she said, he wouldn’t. But</span>
  <span> the prickle of fear that demanded she turn around and go to Ari’s side</span>
  <span> was growing</span>
  <span>, to make sure he was still breathing</span>
  <span>—but she knew </span>
  <span>that the moment she turned, Folkwin would either lunge for her or </span>
  <span>disappear</span>
  <span> into the woods.</span>
  <span> She kept her place. </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>I </span>
  <span>was</span>
  <span> sorry you </span>
  <span>weren’t </span>
  <span>here with </span>
  <span>me, Folkwin</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span>” she said, softer. But her face grew hard quickly. “</span>
  <span>But</span>
  
  <span>you </span>
  <span>stole</span>
  <span> my baby</span>
  <span>. You murdered </span>
  <span>my friends’ daughter.</span>
  <span> She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>ten</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Folkwin—when I go home, I will have to spend hours digging her blood out of the floors and washing it from my bed.</span>
  
  <span>You will always be remembered as her murderer. I will be sure of it</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Just let me go, Thusnelda</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>You’ll never see me again. I’ve taken care of the one last thing that could have held us back</span>
  <span>. You can have your future without me.</span>
  
  <span>It will be like I never existed.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"You will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never be forgotten.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thusnelda spat at his feet.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of a shrill whinny behind them was enough to pull </span>
  <span>Folkwin's</span>
  <span> attention, and Thusnelda used it. </span>
  <span>She leapt forward and </span>
  <span>kicked him to his back</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> taking her spear in her hand, and before she could think, she screamed—bringing it down with all her strength.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Folkwin stared at the spear through his chest, the tip of his fingers touching the shaft with a sort of amazement as blood began to well through his lips. Thusnelda met his gaze, wide eyed, as another whinny came—this time, accompanied by the thunder of two horses, who burst through into the clearing. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thusnelda!” Sucaria called, glancing to </span>
  <span>Ari's</span>
  <span> body prone and bleeding against the ground but settling on Thusnelda and Folkwin.</span>
  
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> cursed and </span>
  <span>pulled to a stop beside him, dismounting at Ari’s side, and undirected, </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> skidded to a stop just behind Thusnelda and Sucaria dismounted</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>Sucaria had barely jumped down and </span>
  <span>let go of the reins</span>
  <span> as</span>
  <span> the horse immediately </span>
  <span>broke</span>
  <span> back to his wounded master with a </span>
  <span>pani</span>
  <span>cked</span>
  <span> nicker. Thusnelda turned to the girl, and Sucaria loosened the sling around her chest—revealing Arnulf, soundly sleeping. Thusnelda couldn’t help herself as she reached for him, unable to speak, and Sucaria gently settled him in her arms, cooing at him as he stirred. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Her eye</span>
  
  <span>then dropped to those of Folkwin, welling over with tears. He spat out as much blood as he could in an effort to speak, but Sucaria shook her head, </span>
  <span>face</span>
  <span> hard. “You failed, faithless,” she said quietly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What—” he gagged, “—have you done?!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sucaria shook her head. “We saved </span>
  <span>him</span>
  <span>, traitor</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span>” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I swore—I—” he coughed, taking a moment to try to catch what little breath was possible. “I swore my firstborn to </span>
  <span>Wod</span>
  <span>—”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Wodan wouldn’t take this sacrifice! We found him soaked to the bone at the banks of the bog wrapped in his </span>
  <span>da’s</span>
  <span> cloak</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  <span> Folkwin shook his head, but Sucaria kept on. “He’s not your firstborn! You swore an oath to kill your first blood like a goat, but </span>
  <span>Ari and</span>
  <span> Thusnelda swore oaths to this baby as their firstborn heir and child! </span>
  <span>The gods sided with them!” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s enough, </span>
  <span>little wolf</span>
  <span>.” Thusnelda looked up from her baby, eye gleaming with tears, and </span>
  <span>wrapped her arm around </span>
  <span>the girl’s shoulder. The young woman looked back at her with anger, joy, and a fierceness that made Thusnelda proud, and Sucaria reached up to wrap her hand around </span>
  <span>Thusnelda’s</span>
  <span> with a small smile on her face. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Thusnelda turned down to Folkwin one more time, and she barely seemed able to comprehend the sight beneath her of his blood soaking through the ground, his eyes growing more and more distant as he tried to hold on. He grasped at the spear, eyes bulging when he jostled it too far. “I loved you,” Thusnelda said quietly. “You were everything to me. You were why I fought. You were why I won.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thusnelda,” he croaked. “You betrayed me.” She shook her head.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No. </span>
  <span>You did this yourself.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth to speak again but coughed, his chest rising and falling one more time, then settling. Thusnelda blinked down at him, watching his face go slack, the </span>
  <span>last pulses</span>
  <span> of blood leaving his body still, and eyes unfocused, distanced from her, looking out into the void. She took a slow breath and closed her </span>
  <span>eye.</span>
  <span> Arnulf whined in her arms and she cradled him closer, kissing the velvet of hair on his head. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thusnelda,” Sucaria said softly. “Ari.” Thusnelda started, the image of Ari knocked out and bleeding in a heap on the ground, and the two women turned back to </span>
  <span>rush</span>
  <span> to his side. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> was rocking nervously on his hooves, ears whipping around with each settling leaf as he stood guard at Ari's side</span>
  <span>—his ears went flat as Thusnelda and Sucaria approached, but he made no move against them. Ari</span>
  <span> was limp but breathing—</span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> had turned him to his back and stripped off his ruined tunic to reveal </span>
  <span>an</span>
  
  <span>u</span>
  <span>ncomfortably </span>
  <span>long</span>
  
  <span>and open </span>
  <span>slice across his ribs, only </span>
  <span>saved from any depth by skating across his ribcage itself</span>
  <span>—but that would </span>
  <span>mean</span>
  <span> cuts to the bone, broken or not.</span>
  
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> had already pulled the wineskin from his saddle to rinse the wound, already having folded </span>
  <span>strips</span>
  <span> of </span>
  <span>Ari’s</span>
  <span> tunic into a makeshift bandage. Thusnelda handed the baby to Sucaria</span>
  
  <span>as Thusnelda kneeled beside her husband</span>
  <span> and took the wineskin from </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span>. As </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> held Arminius’s slack shoulders, </span>
  <span>Thusnelda </span>
  <span>nodded, and </span>
  <span>she </span>
  <span>braced him at the hip as </span>
  <span>sh</span>
  <span>e poured the burning liquid into the wound. While they were all prepared for his scream, the baby was of course not—he immediately began wailing in </span>
  <span>Sucaria’s</span>
  <span> arms. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari’s breath caught as he convulsed with the pain, eyes foggy, rolling wildly from face to face for only a moment before they settled on Sucaria falling to her knees at his side, turning downwards to show him the screaming bundle in her arms. He blinked, one hand trying to clutch at his side (</span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> caught it and pulled it away, returning his white knuckled grip) and the other trembling as he reached for his son. Thusnelda guided his hand. “I have died,” he said, hoarse as he swallowed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Ari, they found him.” Thusnelda took the screaming baby from </span>
  <span>Sucaria’s</span>
  <span> arms and rested him on Ari's bloody, </span>
  <span>wine-</span>
  <span>soaked</span>
  <span> chest, guiding his hand to rest on his son. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> squeezed his hand and guided it back to his chest, where Ari was now gently soothing </span>
  <span>Arnulf’s</span>
  <span> back. “Wodan wouldn’t take the sacrifice, </span>
  <span>Ari</span>
  <span>; he was at the banks of the bog soaked through but alive</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  <span> Ari's eyes suddenly widened and his breath quickened again, but he winced and couldn’t help but jerk as </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> pressed a makeshift bandage against his side</span>
  <span>, guiding Ari’s own hand to it to keep on the pressure. When Ari spoke, his voice was slow; almost absentminded</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>That really </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>was  a</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> solid kick </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>to the head,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thusnelda </span>
  <span>thought to herself, and the thought </span>
  <span>didn’t make her feel </span>
  <span>good.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is Folkwin?” Thusnelda looked away. Ari turned to her, searching her face as her tears welled over, and he reached out to cup her cheek in his hand. </span>
  <span>She kissed his bloody palm—and for a moment, almost started, remembering</span>
  
  <span>the </span>
  <span>taste of blood in her dream. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We are safe.” He stared back at her for a long moment before it seemed to dawn on him. He nodded, his thumb tracing the length of the scar over her cheek. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Cupita</span>
  <span> Mea,” he said softly. His voice was weighed with grief, but it was not grief for himself</span>
  <span>: </span>
  <span>it was for her. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have to worry about me, </span>
  <span>Domine</span>
  <span>,” she replied, trying to sound a bit more lighthearted. He smiled, whether he believed it or</span>
  <span> not—</span>
  <span>but he was starting to look a bit green and slowly reached to touch the back of his </span>
  <span>head, wincing as he did so.</span>
  <span> “We must go home. </span>
  <span>That needs to get stitched.”</span>
  <span> He</span>
  
  <span>looked down a</span>
  <span>t his bloodied chest </span>
  <span>and</span>
  <span> for a moment, he looked a bit concerned, </span>
  <span>but a crooked</span>
  
  <span>smile </span>
  <span>spread across h</span>
  <span>is face</span>
  <span>. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that bad</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet, </span>
  <span>you i</span>
  <span>diot,”</span>
  <span> Sucaria </span>
  <span>snapped</span>
  <span>, clearly annoyed</span>
  <span> as she picked up the baby and began to </span>
  <span>wipe</span>
  <span> off the blood and wine that was now upsetting him </span>
  <span>even </span>
  <span>further. </span>
  <span>Talio's</span>
  <span> jaw dropped</span>
  <span> as he sputtered for a reprimand, </span>
  <span>but Ari </span>
  <span>blinked back at her for a moment before he </span>
  <span>laughed shallowly, waving his hand</span>
  <span>. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Fine, it’s bad</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span> But</span>
  <span> I was well overdue</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span> I’m </span>
  <span>just—</span>
  <span>”</span>
  
  <span>as </span>
  <span>h</span>
  <span>e tried to bra</span>
  <span>ce</span>
  <span> himself to sit up, </span>
  <span>he</span>
  <span> hissed in pain</span>
  <span> and grabbed his head </span>
  <span>as he did so</span>
  <span>, His eyes suddenly swimming</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Guarding my—my chest. I’m not used to it. Always </span>
  <span>have </span>
  <span>the armor</span>
  <span>.” </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> and Thusnelda instead</span>
  <span> helped him to his feet</span>
  <span> once his gaze cleared enough to look between them. </span>
  <span>As Ari </span>
  <span>tried to maintain his balance, one hand </span>
  <span>pressed to the bandages on his side, </span>
  <span>he reached out to </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> (who was </span>
  <span>still standing </span>
  <span>quite close)</span>
  <span>, steadying himself on the horse’s shoulder. </span>
  <span>Sucaria suddenly had the thought that</span>
  
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span>, for his part, </span>
  <span>looked anxious as a </span>
  <span>rabbit</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>he was making the sorts of panicked noises </span>
  <span>a </span>
  <span>mare</span>
  <span> did when you pulled away her foal.</span>
  
  <span>Ari let him nose </span>
  <span>his bloody side, a low, </span>
  <span>whining whinny </span>
  <span>rolling through </span>
  <span>him</span>
  <span> as</span>
  <span> Ari </span>
  <span>hushed </span>
  <span>him, mumbling</span>
  <span> something in Latin</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>leaning harder as he rested his forehead against the horse’s neck</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>It almost looked like he was trying to hide his face in the stallion’s mane, but Sucaria saw him gritting his teeth, eyes clenched shut—she'd seen that expression on many of the men at the battle at the river, when she’d been pressed into service there</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But it was not at home on his face, and she hated it.</span>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <span>It’s how we </span>
  <span>met,</span>
  <span> did I ever tell you that?</span>
  <span>”</span>
  
  <span>He said distractedly, pulling away and looking over to Sucaria—his face now almost back to normal, besides some tightness to the eyes and his trembling breath. “I was bleeding a lot</span>
  <span> then, </span>
  <span>too</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>that</span>
  <span> was an unpleasant day for both of us</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Story later, </span>
  <span>Reik</span>
  <span>,” </span>
  <span>Talio</span>
  <span> said as he led </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> and Ari to a rock to help Ari mount. </span>
  <span>When he’d</span>
  <span> settled himself back into the saddle, Ari held loosely to the reins, </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> maneuvering around by himself, smoothly trotting over to the other horses’ sides with little direction from his rider. The rest of them mounted as well, Sucaria </span>
  <span>on Ari’s spare, Walnut</span>
  <span> (not the brightest horse, but </span>
  <span>at least she was pretty, and </span>
  <span>sweet all the same)</span>
  <span>, and </span>
  <span>also took the reins of </span>
  <span>Folkwin’s</span>
  <span> horse—she was a handsome young thing, best not to let her go by</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span> Thusnelda </span>
  <span>handed her </span>
  <span>her</span>
  <span> own reins as she spoke</span>
  <span> quietly to the baby, tears streaming down her face as she cradled him close commenting on just how strong he was, and how she was sure he was starving and very much would like a bath. He certainly had a lot to say about it, especially for a three-month-old. When Sucaria glanced over to Ari</span>
  <span>, though</span>
  <span>, the sight made her feel cold—his eyes were glassy and he breathed slowly, in and out of his nose, the hand on his bandages white-knuckled. Her father looked back at him, and Sucaria felt worse at the unnerved glint in his eyes, but he murmured, “Let’s get home,” and they started back up the road. They left Folkwin where he lay</span>
  <span>, without a backwards glance.</span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading, those of you who do! I know that this is, of course, an obscure fandom consisting of very few people, and most assuredly not one that is expected to have a 90k+ word fic attached to it, but, you know. As always, thanks to Eastern_Lights, and to the others who've kept it going. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ari barely steered, eventually dropping his reins altogether, but his stallion stayed close in formation, walking smoothly and still overly alert. As they rode, Thusnelda kept glancing up from the baby as he ate—but she looked far more worried than Sucaria thought may be warranted for a concussion and a flesh-wound. Sucaria found herself thankful that </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> had such a dark coat anyways. In the darkening of evening, she could only see the gloss of blood that was trickling down his side—not the bright red she would have seen on another. When they rode back into the village, it was long past dusk</span>
  <span>. T</span>
  <span>he tribe was in an uproar. As they descended on the riders, shouting for answers—even louder when they saw Ari, shirtless, the blood from his side since mostly dried but now caked and staining down his horse’s flank. Ari locked his jaw to stifle any shift in expression as he sat straighter and rose a hand in greeting, suddenly appearing far more clearheaded than he had the entire ride home. Thusnelda handed the baby down to Sucaria while she dismounted, Talio helped Ari down as well, helping steady him as pulling Ari’s arm over his shoulder to walk him into the hall after handing </span>
  <span>Fons’s</span>
  <span> reins over to Manus and commanding his son to wash the horse down. </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span> tried to go after Ari and Talio, his voice shrill as he whined towards them, but Manus managed to drag him behind the hall with the help of another man. Thusnelda took the baby back from Sucaria as she watched her husband and Talio disappear through the doorway, but she realized with a moment’s shock that Runa stood before it, watching her in silence as she stepped out of their way, and the way of several frantic village healers who followed behind them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who called—oh. We have a funeral.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thusnelda glanced to Sucaria, who was looking towards the hall with panic, and she quietly said, “Go,” Sucaria glancing back at her before running in to join them. Thusnelda squared her shoulders, looking through the assembly. She rose her own hand for silence and the voices around her quickly began to peter out, everyone desperate for information. Thusnelda steeled herself, then spoke. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Folkwin </span>
  <span>Wolfspeer</span>
  <span> came among us once again,” she said evenly. There was an audible gasp through the tribe, but she continued. “He came into our hall while we were away in the fields, and he murdered Genovefa as she cared for our prince—then stole him from his cradle.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?!” someone called angrily—Thusnelda looked to see, and a sudden pang went through her heart. It was </span>
  <span>Bilius</span>
  <span> the brewer. They had always been close. </span>
  <span>But as she opened her mouth to speak, </span>
  <span>she realized that Runa had made her way forward into the throng.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He swore the child as a sacrifice,” Runa said plainly, staring down at Arnulf. “All of you know why.” The tribe remained silent, but Thusnelda saw several looks pass around as she set her jaw—some could have been a bit judgmental, but most shocked and angry. Runa continued, quieter. “He took Arnulf to the bog, carried him into the water, and left him for </span>
  <span>Wodan</span>
  <span>—b</span>
  <span>ut the gods would not take him. He was found at the bank of the bog by </span>
  <span>the girl </span>
  <span>Sucaria and</span>
  <span> her father</span>
  <span>. </span>
  
  <span>The gods have recognized his true parentage, and they have accepted the oaths of the Reik and his lady over that of Folkwin’s.</span>
  
  <span>Both matters are settled, and none will question it anymore. As for </span>
  <span>Wolfspeer</span>
  <span>, he abandoned our tribe and he abandoned himself.” Runa slowly looked up from the baby, her eyes meeting Thusnelda’s. “The gods will judge him now. He is not worth our thoughts.” She waited for no responses as she walked away towards the hall. Thusnelda followed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As she stepped in through the doorway, </span>
  <span>she felt her world waver</span>
  <span> at the sight. Ari was sitting on the bench next to the horses’ stalls, bent over as someone was cleaning his side and another was carefully looking over the back of his head. One hand white knuckled on the post of the stall next to him and the other on </span>
  <span>Talio’s</span>
  <span> shoulder as he helped steady him, Ari was breathing as evenly as he could. Sucaria was already steeping the appropriate herbs, some for the pain and some for the bleeding. Ari didn’t look up as Thusnelda came forward, but Talio turned to her, eyes pained—from watching Ari as his blood didn’t stop flowing or from his nails digging into his arm, or both, it wasn’t clear, and it didn’t matter. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Amica</span>
  <span> mea,” Thusnelda called quietly, stopping within his range of vision, but not getting too close as to hinder the movement of those cleaning his wound. Slowly, he opened his eyes and they settled on her. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Arnulf?” he gasped, his voice tight</span>
  <span> and</span>
  <span> almost </span>
  <span>slurred.  Runa had made her way over to them and she took Ari’s chin in her hand, turning his face to her, tugging his eyelids down to check the state of his pupils, pursing her lips at what she saw—but when she turned his head so she could check the well-formed knot on the back of his head, she looked a little less displeased—she even waved her hand away as if in dismissal of the injury. As Runa kneeled beside him and began to apply the appropriate medicines into his wound, however, she couldn’t seem to stop the annoyance that passed briefly over her face as it bled freshly when he took a deeper breath—not quite crying out.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re safe, Ari.” Thusnelda kneeled next to him and angled Arnulf better in her arms. Ari’s breath shuddered as another woman kneeled at his side with a needle, asking if he was ready—he jerked his head in a nod as he took a fold of thick leather scrap from her, stuffing it in his mouth to bite on, shifting his grip on </span>
  <span>Talio’s</span>
  <span> shoulder and the post. Talio gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, meeting his eyes for a moment before Ari nodded, closing his and dropping his head, chin against his chest. He was almost silent as she stitched his wound shut, white knuckled, as his breath remained shallow and short, hitching with each new stitch, but she made quick work of it. When she began to press folds of bandages against his side and wrap them down against his chest, his hands finally loosened and he locked eyes with Thusnelda, reaching for her. She took it, trembling as it was. She didn’t like how far-off his eyes were—his pupils were too wide, even for the dim of the hall. “How is your head?” He rose an eyebrow, spitting out the </span>
  <span>mouth guard</span>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It got kicked into a rock, Thusnelda.” She and Talio couldn’t help but laugh at the deadpan look he gave her. When he felt the bandage tied off, he nodded to the women who’d helped as they checked their work and he looked to Runa, who without another word, turned away, going to the back of the hall, disappearing through the doorway into the private chambers. Thusnelda felt a knot in her throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Genovefa. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She turned back to look at Talio, who had looked away, now instead helping Ari shift in his seat without twisting his torso and pulling the fresh stitches, turning him back to Thusnelda and his son. Ari pulled his hand away from Thusnelda’s and instead gave it to Arnulf, who instinctively wrapped his fist around Ari’s finger as he met his father’s gaze—and the baby gurgled, a smile spreading over his face as he wiggled and kicked in his mother’s arms. “You’ve had a full day, young man,” he said quietly—and Thusnelda saw fresh tears welling over. His eyes had been already watering from the pain, but seeing Arnulf, touching him, was different. She felt the same. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They’d been given proof. The gods had acknowledged them. They’d acknowledged Ari—if nothing else, Folkwin had been right. A baby, such a young one as theirs, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>have lived, half submerged in the cold, near-rancid waters of the bog. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>have died. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>have succumbed to the cold, or drowned, or been </span>
  <span>eaten, bu</span>
  <span>t the gods didn’t allow it. The Women of the Wood protected him. </span>
  <span>Wodan</span>
  
  <span>had made it clear he h</span>
  <span>ad no claim and no want for their child. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Perhaps that’s why Folkwin...</span>
  </em>
  <span>Thusnelda could still not bring herself to finish the sentence. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Perhaps he took Folkwin because Folkwin tried to give a faulty sacrifice. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But looking now at Ari, his eyes so odd and far as he breathed shallowly, trying not to pull his chest, holding their baby’s hand like he was afraid he’d be stolen again should he let go,</span>
  <span> struck her hard and deep.</span>
  
  <em>
    <span>We had been so close to losing everything. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But...Folkwin. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thusnelda held back the cold hitch to her stomach as she suddenly felt she could have gagged. For most of her life, she had dreamed that she’d be at his side as he died: old and grey, soft eyed and smiling, as he lay surrounded by their children and grandchildren, holding her hand, going to their gods in peace after a life they’d lived well together. But she had always known that couldn’t be. There was never any way. But she never could have dreamed—not in her deepest fears—that it could have been like this. She doubted that her hands would ever feel clean again. She’d always feel the grain of the spear shaft beneath her fist. She’d always hear him sputtering for breath, always hear his sobbing, see his eyes—and know that she had been the one to do it. She was the one who took him from whatever woman who loved him. He would have deserved her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She </span>
  </em>
  <span>deserved him. He was a good man, an honorable man; strong-hearted, strong-willed, steady, and loyal—he had been everything to her for so long, and Thusnelda knew what he loved like: wholly, completely, stupidly, blindly, and beautifully. Whoever she was, he would have loved her </span>
  <span>til</span>
  <span> his last breath, and then beyond, and now she might never know what happened. She must have known Folkwin’s purpose for returning to their lands, he couldn’t keep secrets all that well from those he loved; but someday, maybe, she would hear the full story—once Ari had healed. Once Thusnelda had healed. She felt a horrible hollowness that had overtaken her as she thought of the sound of his sobs that had drawn them to him—his grief over his deeds. Folkwin didn’t have the heart for wanton violence. At least, not the Folkwin </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>loved. But even though Thusnelda knew that Folkwin’s last hours were spent in blind grief at what he’d done, she didn’t think she’d ever forgive him, even if she could understand. She herself had made oaths and sworn on her own blood. But she’d fulfilled them, she was still doing so—and she swore </span>
  <em>
    <span>her own </span>
  </em>
  <span>blood. No one </span>
  <span>else’s</span>
  <span>. But as Ari suddenly hissed a sharp breath in front of her and drew her back to the present, his eyes faded as he suddenly swayed, Talio again steadying his shoulder, she again swallowed down the nausea and tears she knew wanted to overwhelm her. Here before her, she had to live with the wreckage that Folkwin had left behind. She reached her hand to Ari’s knee and he smiled as best as he could, his hand still carefully wrapped around Arnulf’s. But </span>
  <span>both of them</span>
  <span> were alive. Battered, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As Arnulf tried to drag Ari’s still-bloody finger into his mouth to chew on, Ari tugged his finger back, still tracing his hand across the baby’s skin. The baby didn’t like being told “no” one bit and squealed, but none of the adults could help their light laughter at his frustrated agony—quickly quelled when Ari started to shush him and Thusnelda started bouncing him in her arms. It was then that they heard the soft sound of the door to the private quarters open, and all went quiet. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sueva stepped through into the hall. Her dress was ruined—stained dark with the rich burgundy of old blood, and her arms were still smeared with it. Her fiery red hair was furiously mussed, but her face was serene as she walked towards them. Talio stepped forward, meeting her. He took her face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together, Sueva’s hands reaching up to wrap around his wrists, holding gently. Sucaria stepped away from the fire and worked her way into their embrace, and the three of them stood together in silence.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed they were jarred from their thoughts when suddenly, Arnulf laughed. Both Ari and Thusnelda jumped—Sueva too as </span>
  <span>Talio’s</span>
  <span> hands fell, all of them looking over at the baby. A flicker of amazement suddenly passed over her impassive face. “Did he just—”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s never laughed before,” Thusnelda said, dumbstruck, as she bounced him again, Ari blinking back, and again Arnulf devolved into giggles. Thusnelda for a moment had a wash of panic as she looked back at Sueva and Talio—but just as suddenly, Sueva laughed too, her hand over her mouth. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fresh tears welled over and down her cheeks, and </span>
  <span>Talio’s</span>
  <span> as well as he joined her, and the three of them came to Ari and Thusnelda’s sides, Sueva settling to her knees next to Thusnelda and reaching out for Arnulf. She handed him over and when Sueva turned him up to face her, she cooed at him, and he laughed again, reaching up and tangling his fists in a loose lock of hair down her shoulder, tugging uncomfortably. Sueva politely told him “No sir, little lord,” and gave him her finger instead, the dazed look in her eyes falling away—if only very slightly. “You need a bath,” she said, tapping his nose, and he gurgled, wiggling again, looking around—probably back for his mother.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>need a bath,” Thusnelda agreed, still unwilling to stand as she watched Arnulf, still smiling, still giggling. Ari nodded, taking as deep a breath as he seemed to be able to muster.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get—” Thusnelda slapped his knee, eye shooting daggers.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Gods, Ari, Sucaria’s right, you’re an idiot—stay still. You’ll tear yourself open again.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“My daughter called you an idiot?” Sueva said, glancing back up. Ari shrugged, a smile twitching onto the corner of his lips. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He is, though!” Sucaria said defensively—and in an almost panicked tone, but the frustration and concern in her voice far outweighed any fear of reprimand. Ari looked back at her plainly for a long while before slowly nodding, reaching out again for the baby, and Sueva helped settle Arnulf across his lap. It wasn’t like Ari could hold him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I shouldn’t—and won’t—push myself, Sucaria. You should know that by now. I know my limits.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Mehercul, Arminius, like you said: your head got kicked into a rock, how do you really know? When was the last time you got your head kicked into a rock and had to decide how capable you were?” Talio said, shaking his head. Ari almost shrugged. Sueva rose an eyebrow.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You were kicked in the head?” Ari smiled a bit sheepishly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, a bit.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They all jumped at the sudden voice beside them. “Should you like to send her to rest tonight, she has been sung for,” Runa said quietly, looking between Talio and Sueva. “Perhaps it would be best—</span>
  <span>her spirit suffers. And</span>
  <span> the reik is still awake and shocked through the pain. Tomorrow, he will not be able</span>
  <span> to attend.</span>
  <span> But it will, of course, be your choice.” Talio took Sueva’s hand. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She should be sent on. We don’t want to trap her here any longer. Her spirit—” Talio took a sharp breath, cutting off a sob as Sueva squeezed his hand, “it had a hard end. She does not deserve to be stuck here.” Runa nodded. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>We</span>
  <span> have had the preparations made while you were searching. We are ready when you are.” She left them in silence. They knew where she was going—she was going to the burning grounds. She would be there when they were ready. So would the rest of the tribe.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ari looked back to Talio, grinding his teeth for a moment before opening his mouth to speak, but Talio rose his hand. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“This was not your fault,” his captain said quietly. “And any one of us would have tried to protect him the same as she. You would have done the same for us.” </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> reached out for his hand and he took it, his fingers brushing some of the flakes of dried blood from the back of her hand. She watched them as they fell.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“My daughter...she’s avenged. We’ve done what we could. We’ll—” she sighed, dropping her head and her hands—Sucaria fell against her and she took her eldest daughter into her arms, kissing her on the forehead. “We’ll do what we can to honor her.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Talio nodded to himself, sighing, and he stood, as did Sueva and Sucaria beside him. As her parents turned to walk to the back room, Sucaria stopped still. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Da, I...” Talio stopped and turned back to her, resting his hand on her shoulder. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If you can’t, girl, you can’t. Don’t be ashamed.” He pulled her forward and hugged her tightly for a long moment before he pushed her back, eyes on hers. “Stay with Ari and Thusnelda. They need you.” As they left her where she stood, she turned back as she was told—walking over to the water stores and putting some in a pot over the hall’s hearth, heating it enough to finally bathe the baby. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They did so in near silence. Ari couldn’t help, he knew he was too uncoordinated—but he watched, wholly focused, as Thusnelda and Sucaria gently rinsed all the blood and mud from the baby’s body. Sucaria got up and gathered an extra swaddling and helped finally change his wrappings (he seemed incredibly appreciative, </span>
  <span>gabbing the whole time</span>
  <span> as </span>
  <span>Sucaria and Thusnelda talked back at him</span>
  <span>), and after, Thusnelda helped Ari lay back against a makeshift pile of furs they’d wrapped up and gathered from their thrones. Both Sucaria and Thusnelda talked with him quietly, about absolutely nothing, just trying to keep him awake. Sucaria had brought him</span>
  <span> willow bark to chew and the other medicines she'd steeped</span>
  <span> and they were seeming to help—a bit. But both Ari and Thusnelda were completely focused on Arnulf as he began to sleep again, both of them afraid to let him go as Thusnelda ran circles on his leg with her finger and Ari rested his palm on the baby’s head. Sucaria leaned against Thusnelda’s legs and had laid her head against her lap, and Thusnelda was reaching down, running her fingers through the younger girl's </span>
  <span>loosened </span>
  <span>hair. Sucaria was exhausted—spent, unsure of how she felt or what she was even supposed to be feeling. But as their conversation lulled, she finally said, “Ari, I can understand why you hate every horse but </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span>, now. But riding him is terrifying.” He seemed to try not to laugh, but he looked dizzy as he did so.  </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a brilliant animal,” he agreed, nodding appreciatively. “No one finer: not in Rome, not her provinces, not Germania, nowhere free besides.” </span>
  <span>Sucaria snorted. </span>
  <span>Thusnelda rolled her eyes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You might take a look-see at the horse that </span>
  <span>Fol</span>
  <span>—that I took with us. She looks like a Roman horse. She’s pretty</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span>” He narrowed his eyes. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably dumb like the last,” he said ruefully.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No animal could be half as dumb as Walnut and you know it,” she said seriously. He did laugh then—and seemed to regret it. Sucaria did too</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>especially as she saw the shock of pain across Thusnelda’s face at his expression. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I should wait until my head works right to look at her, Su,” he said quietly once he caught his breath. Both Sucaria and Thusnelda looked at him oddly—no one had ever called her “Su.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>He really isn’t all that in there, is he? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“But maybe I’ll find a good mate for him yet.” Ari nodded slowly, agreeing with himself. “What color is she, again?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, she’s pretty—near to black, more grey than brown like </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span>; bald-faced. I didn’t look, but her eyes are probably blue, like you said, right? Because she’s bald faced?” </span>
  <span>He shook his head, almost as if in amazement. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>listen to me.” Thusnelda laughed quietly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone has to listen to you about all the horse nonsense. But she might just do it to indulge you, you know.” Ari gave her a small, almost smile, but he turned back to Sucaria as she spoke.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s got good legs, too. </span>
  <span>She’s young. </span>
  <span>And her tack is in good condition. We can use it still.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll give her a few days to get used to it here. When I’m a bit more...back to myself...I’ll turn her out with Thusnelda’s gelding. We’ll see how...” Ari trailed off, sighing at his own speech. He was exhausted and annoyed with his own head, and it was obvious. When he began again, he tried to speak clearer. “</span>
  <span>Perhaps </span>
  <span>we’ll</span>
  <span> not</span>
  <span> have to wait ‘til spring to turn her out with </span>
  <span>Fons</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>enough things have gone wrong today that </span>
  <span>maybe we'll </span>
  <span>get lucky in this.</span>
  <span>” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally heard the door to their chambers open, they went quiet. </span>
  <span>They watched as Talio carried the small bundle from the hall, wrapped in </span>
  <span>one of </span>
  <span>the ruined pelts from Ari and Thusnelda’s bedding</span>
  <span>, and Sucaria helped Ari stand. Talio looked back at them with an unreadable gaze, but Sueva stepped forward to hand Ari a new shirt, which he accepted. It was difficult going helping him get it over his head without twisting and lifting his arms too much, but when they had, Ari finally nodded and stood.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” </span>
  <span>Sueva</span>
  <span> asked quietly. They left without another word.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They stood in </span>
  <span>the hush of the darkness</span>
  <span> as the smoke rose. Sueva’s tears were nearly silent, and so were </span>
  <span>Talio’s</span>
  <span>—but many of their children were not so composed. Talio held their youngest, and another was wrapped around his leg; Manus hugged tightly to another</span>
  <span> few</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>Sueva’s arm was wrapped around </span>
  <span>one more, </span>
  <span>unable to hold him due to her well-rounded belly, </span>
  <span>and Sucaria stood at Ari and Thusnelda’s side. Her shoulders trembled as she tried to hold back her own tears, but Ari looked over, </span>
  <span>sighing.</span>
  <span> He reached upwards and drew his arm around her, pulling her tight to his un-wounded side as he rested his chin on the top of her head. She tensed as she tried to contain herself again, but Ari shook his head. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sucaria,” he said quietly, only audible to her over the growing roar of the fire. “It is necessary to grieve. She deserves that. So do you.” Sucaria turned her face into his chest and took a shallow breath, tears welling over. Ari gently traced his thumb over her shoulder and said nothing more, allowing her </span>
  <span>her</span>
  <span> peace as she wept—and she was grateful.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As the hours had passed, Sucaria found that Ari was much less supporting her than she and Thusnelda were steadying him, but other than the dazed look in his eyes that had continued to deepen, he seemed to be doing his best to appear as centered and sound as he always was. They all stayed until there was nothing more than embers, the last remnants of thin, blackened bones rising up through white ashes.  They would return in the morning to gather and bury them. Runa and </span>
  <span>Ansgar</span>
  <span>, however, stayed—both standing over the bones and embers as they chanted, their words indefinable. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They made their way back to the village. Not far from the actual burning grounds, Talio ended up on Ari’s other side, linking arms with him as they walked, and Talio helped them get him settled on one of the long benches lining the hall while </span>
  <span>Thusnelda</span>
  <span> resigned herself to the next, terrible task she knew to be at hand. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She’d borrowed the bassinet from Sueva’s house, still not entirely sure what her own looked like, and settled the baby down </span>
  <span>on the ground </span>
  <span>next to Ari, who mumbled that he’d keep a listen for him </span>
  <span>before</span>
  <span> falling back asleep. Thusnelda took in the sight: Ari, his shirt stripped (he didn’t want to bleed through his bandages and ruin it) as he laid on his side, head propped up on folded furs, one arm carefully pulled away from his wounded side and the other draped down into the baby’s bassinet, his finger wrapped in Arnulf’s fist as they slept. Ari looked more exhausted and miserable than she’d ever seen him before—</span>
  <em>
    <span>He looks old,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought, looking at the barest lines creased around his eyes and the sallow darkness in his cheeks; but much had happened. She felt old now, too. Or at the very least, grown. She sighed. Folkwin was dead. Arnulf was safe. They were all safe. But Genovefa was dead, too. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He had to take something, I suppose,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought, not quite bitterly—more tired, and just sad. There was nothing for it. She had to take care of the room.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When she finally stepped inside, the sight didn’t make her as sick as she thought it would—but she was exhausted, and it couldn’t have been worse than the image she’d built for herself. The dry mat of blood at the foot of her bedding, spilled over the empty bassinet and </span>
  <span>caked</span>
  <span> into the ground, into footprints and knee prints from her kneeling parents was bigger than Thusnelda had hoped, but not </span>
  <span>unmanageable.</span>
  
  <span>But there was nothing for it. They had to have somewhere to sleep. Ari couldn’t sleep on a bench all night.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She went back outside to gather her small wooden rake and trowel for working in the field and when she came back in, she grabbed her bucket, unused since she’d flung it at her father all those months ago. But it seemed that it would only be a container of horrible things for the rest of its usable life. That, at least, was an indelible fact that she could count on. She now stood before the edge of the pool of Genovefa’s blood.</span>
  
  <span>Thusnelda kneeled before it, her trowel in hand—somehow unsure of how to begin. Suddenly, the door opened. It was Sucaria.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She walked forward slowly</span>
  <span>, kneeled</span>
  <span> next to Thusnelda</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> and drew out her own trowel, reaching forward and beginning to scrape the ground clear</span>
  <span> without a word.</span>
  <span> Thusnelda smiled softly and maneuvered her bucket between them </span>
  <span>as</span>
  <span> they got to work in silence. Before long, the floor was clean and they had re-made the bedding, setting aside what could be saved and piling up what could not, leaving little trace of that day’s </span>
  <span>events. </span>
  <span>They went out into the hall </span>
  <span>and</span>
  <span> helped Ari get up,</span>
  
  <span>guiding him back to lay down in his own </span>
  <span>bedding</span>
  <span>. As Sucaria left them, Thusnelda again bent down to kiss Arnulf’s forehead, and she settled down next to her husband, watching his face as he laid in his own shallow sleep—and all she could remember was the horrible fear that overtook him in the darkness of her dream. It was that thought that held her as she fell into sleep herself, a horrible end to a worse day.</span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for popping by, and thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think! I appreciate you, yes, you!, for reading! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>